Outbreak
by Prisoner617
Summary: COMPLETE. September 13th 2009. An ordinary Sunday in New Barkham turns into hell when zombies outbreak in the centre of the city. With the city and the surrounding county cordoned off, a man struggles to keep the woman he cares for, safe.
1. ACT I: Early Hours

**Outbreak**

**Chapter One**

_**Unknown Location/Time**_

_"I'm gonna change the world!"_

_Stanley dropped his coloring pencil and looked at his brother, posing in a stance as though he was kneeling with a sword held up high. His sister laughed, sitting on the sofa in their living room. It was a peaceful atmosphere. While their father was away, Pam had been tasked with looking after her young brothers. Stanley always found her fun to be around, even though she was already a junior, and he was still in elementary._

_"You can do whatever you want Lane," she said with a smile. "Just don't forget about your brother or me when you do okay?"_

_Lane nodded before giving Stanley a smirk. "What are __**you **__gonna do?"_

_Stanley hummed for a few minutes as he tapped his chin with his finger to show his thought process. His sister giggled again. "I wanna be ... a hero!" He showed his siblings his drawing of him flying through the air, carrying someone in his arms. It was quite the drawing._

_"Wow," said Pam, leaning closer to see what exactly he had drawn. "That's amazing Stanley!"_

_Stanley smiled. "Thanks." Out of the corner of his eye, his brother Lane looked jealous...

* * *

**September 13th 2009**_

_**7:00 a.m. – Stanley's Loft  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley dunked the last bit of orange juice into the glass next to his breakfast. The city was slowly coming alive outside. He was already dressed for his job at the architectural firm 'Davis and Glade' where he was going to begin his first drafts of the new town hall. Art was his passion, but he wanted it to have a purpose rather than hang neatly on a wall.

Taking a seat at the table, he switched on the television to see the morning news. He jabbed his sausage with a fork as the local news network appeared.

" – why he began his murderous rampage against the police as they raided his home, and as you can see behind me, two officers were wounded quite badly; one in the neck and the other wounded on both arms. According to witnesses, they had heard screaming sometime around 6:37 this morning and called the police … "

Stanley squinted at the TV, trying to identify the mansion that was on the screen. It looked very familiar and quite spectacular with the sunrise in the distance.

"Police have currently subdued the elderly man, but he had no regard for their attempts to do so, succeeding in taking down an entire family of three who were witnesses at the scene. The local authorities here at Casper Island have currently blocked off Lonsdale and Wilthrow Avenues, so do try to avoid …"

Stanley allowed his sausage to slide off his fork as he registered the word 'Wilthrow'. His brother Lane lived on that avenue, along with his girlfriend Isabel. Quickly, he reached for the phone and dialed their number, wondering if they were aware of what was going on nearby.

"H … hello?" yawned a female voice. It was accented with a hint of Spanish. Stanley's heart elevated and he smiled. It had been almost three weeks since they last talked, and it was really for his own good. He still wasn't over her.

"Hey there. I'm sorry I – I didn't mean to wake you."

"Oh hey Stanley! No it's fine, we're just still a little bit sleepy. What's up?"

"Oh, uh," Stanley muddled up his speech. "I just wanted to make sure _you_ were okay, and Lane."

"We haven't spoken in a while," she said giggling. "And that's why you decide to call so early in the morning?"

Stanley flushed. "No, no, it's just that something happened near your place, and the police are there. They blocked the whole street off."

"Really?" she said, surprised. He heard footsteps on her end of the line followed by the ruffling of blinds.

"My God, that's Sean's house."

Stanley was confused at whom she was referring to. "Sean? Who's that?"

"Oh, Sean Morton," she said sadly. "Lane knows him from work. He told me yesterday that Sean lost his job at Yoshida. What happened?"

"Do you think that's why he went and attacked all those people?" asked Stanley, intrigued.

"He attacked someone?"

"Yeah, they said on the news." He looked back at the television. "Two officers and a family."

A more gruff voice could be heard faintly on the other end of the line. "Go have a look then," Stanley heard Isabel say quietly.

"Lane's just gone to check it out before he heads out to work. He seems quite angry, I don't know why… I don't think he really knew him that well."

"Angry?" Stanley wasn't surprised. Lane wasn't much of a cheerful person, but then again neither was he. He had quite an unstable relationship with his brother. If it wasn't for Isabel, Stanley was sure they'd never have spoken to each other again after what happened ten years ago.

"Yeah."

Stanley remained silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to prolong the conversation. "So – how've you been?"

"I've been okay I guess. I'm taking the whole week off work while we paint the house, so maybe we can all get together or something sometime this week?"

"I'd like that." He smiled to himself. Lane wouldn't.

He sighed, realizing that it was time the conversation came to an end. "Well, I'd better get ready for work. I'll see you."

"Okay then. Take care. Bye."

"Bye." Stanley hung up, closed his eyes and thumped his head against the wall as though he was punishing himself. He walked straight past the dining table and fell into the couch. One of the officers on the TV was being loaded onto the ambulance. Blood poured out of his neck as he writhed in agony. He shivered as he shut it off. How could an elderly man overpower five people?

"Weird," he muttered. Looking over his shoulder at his steaming sausages, he wasn't sure he could finish it now.

* * *

_**12:07 p.m. – Davis and Glade  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley was bothered by the news report all morning. He had barely begun his drafts despite his early arrival at eight o'clock. His worry for Isabel had prevented him from doing so. He tapped his pencil on the desk as he thought of her. His high school crush -- it seemed so childish of him to continue having it, but he didn't want to let it go, no matter how much it hurt. He was too drawn to her, ever since their first art class together. He had become afraid that he was becoming stalkerish and obsessive; the main reason he cut all communication with her for the past three weeks. Putting the pencil down, he leaned back in his seat to reminisce their first meeting.

**

_He took his seat, dropping his stuff off on the table next to him. A foul mood hung over him, managing to withstand yet another lunchtime of bullies and name calling after being free of them from the summer holidays. He just wanted to be left alone now in his favorite class: art. None of those idiots would dare take this subject, so he was in no danger of encountering any of them in the class. The classroom was almost full. Only his desk and one next to some sort of goth towards the back remained vacant. His fingers drummed impatiently on the desk, wanting to wrap around a pencil and begin scribbling, but the door clicked open and Stanley naturally turned to see. A cute hispanic looking girl had walked in. Stanley was a little intrigued by her, but turned away before she noticed. He was sure she was probably part of a ring of bullies somewhere in the school judging by her beauty. Regardless, he snuck a look at her again. She frowned at the gothic man at the back and made her way over to where Stanley's things were. Swallowing, he hastily shifted aside his accessories, allowing her to take her seat just as the bell rang._

_"Hi!" she said with a pleasant smile. She seemed okay._

_"Hullo," he mumbled._

_She kept her smile as she pulled out her sketchbook. His gaze fell down to see the name written in marker at the top._

_"Isabela," he read before looking back up at her. She nodded. "Just Isabel, I don't know why mom thought to add the 'ah' sound." She laughed a bit. "What's your name?"_

_Stanley cleared his throat. "I'm Stanley -- or Stan, I -- I really don't mind." He reddened a little at his nervous introduction, but she giggled slightly._

"_Can I see some of your drawings?" he asked…_

**

A knock at the door pulled him out of his flashback. Someone walked through the door.

"Hey." It was his co-worker, Sam.

"Heyya," said Stanley, breaking his relaxed position.

"Sad what happened this morning, innit?"

"You mean the attack on that family and those cops?" asked Stanley, clearing a bit of his desk and shoving it into the drawer. "I didn't know you watched the news…"

"Well, I don't," he admitted. "But this was just real interesting. I'm surprised he took down five people at his age with his bare hands. Makes you wonder what the hell made them stand around while he ran at them huh?"

Stanley pondered aloud. That was what was strange. The only way he could've attacked them is if they just stood without running or fighting back. He doubted he was quick enough to attack five people in quick succession while they struggled.

"Hmm. My brother told me that the old man was a co-worker of his at Yoshida, and that he lost his job or something last night."

"Your brother works at that Yoshida International building downtown?"

"Yeah, he does."

"Oh. Prestigious job huh? You never told me that."

Stanley rolled his eyes. He had. "Yep, he's the VP of Internal Security at their corporate headquarters."

Sam nodded in interest as Stanley tapped his fingers on the desk again, still unable to concentrate on his work. He needed a break.

"Listen," said Stanley. "Could you cover for me, I can't focus right now. I'm just going around the block to get a cup of coffee."

Sam grinned as he folded his arms. "Sure, if you bring something back for me too."

Stanley smirked back as he slipped into his jacket. September… summer was long gone now.

* * *

_**12:21 p.m. – Paulson's Café  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

"Thanks a lot," said Stanley, retrieving both the coffee cups he bought from the teller. He took a sip out of one to bring his mind back into focus before he headed back outside. Across the street was a small crowd of people outside an electronics store. Something seemed to be on the televisions on display, but Stanley didn't have time to go watch. He needed to get back before his boss caught him out. Ignoring the crowd, he made his way back to the firm, but his cell phone began to vibrate.

"Damn," he said, placing one of the cups on top of a postbox on the sidewalk. Fishing his phone out, caller ID told him it was Isabel.

"Hello."

"Oh, Stanley thank god!" cried her voice on the other end. There was a lot noise in the background. It sounded a lot like shrieking.

"Hi, what's up? Sounds busy."

Isabel was breathing heavily. "We need help, please!"

Stanley's eyebrows narrowed. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

She sobbed. "Please! There're people in the building, and they're … attacking everyone they see downstairs. I can't reach Lane so I thought I'd call you."

"Why, where's Lane?"

"He – he was charging his cell phone back at home and he's not answering at his office."

"Okay, um," Stanley said, thinking quickly of a solution. "Try to find some place to hide and call 911 alright?"

"We've tried Stan! The lines are busy!"

"Okay…" He was getting more worried by the second. She sounded petrified. Why would 911 be too busy to handle some attackers where Isabel was? He glanced over at the crowd by the electronics store again. "Alright, I'm going over there now. Where are you? Are you at home?"

"No, I'm at Nadia's place. You remember where it is right?"

Stanley began pacing back to the parking lot, forgetting Sam's coffee on top of the postbox. Nadia; her longtime friend. Stanley was a pretty good friend of hers also. "Yeah, but what are you doing over there?"

"I was just visiti – oh god, they're coming up the stairs. Please Stanley, get help!"

"Isabel? Wait."

But the call abruptly ended.

"Hello? Hello!?"


	2. Impromptu Rescue

**Chapter Two**

_**12:24 p.m. – Davis and Glade  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley hastily hopped into his SUV parked outside. He didn't really have time to put the coffee cups nicely in the cup holders, so he shoved them on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Isabel was in trouble, but there was an air of mystery to her call.

"There're people in the building, and they're … attacking everyone?" he repeated to himself, jamming the key into the ignition. Was there some sort of riot going on, or was it just a robbery of some kind? The car screeched as he reversed out of his parking space, nearly hitting a car driving past.

"Watch it dickhead!" cried the woman in the car who had swerved out of the way. Stanley didn't bother to respond as he turned away from the car. He saw her middle finger on his rear view mirror, but he ignored it, driving out onto the main street.

But it wasn't even five minutes before he hit traffic.

"Damn!" he said, slapping his hands on the wheel. He couldn't see what was going on up ahead, but he was going to be here a while.

He pressed his horn uselessly. "Come on!"

Stuck behind several cars, he dialed Lane's number at the office. Perhaps he'd have better luck.

"Hi, you've reached Lane Parfetti, VP of Internal Security at Yoshida International Industries. I am currently unavail –"

Stanley didn't bother to waste his time hearing the rest. Instead he moved on to dial 911, hoping he could get some sort of response from them, but all he got was a busy signal.

"What the hell?" he said, now punching in Isabel's number. However, at the last minute, he refrained from pressing the call button.

"Bad idea," he thought, throwing the phone onto the passenger seat. What if his call alerted the attackers? She probably wouldn't answer anyway.

Up ahead, the traffic was slowly diverting, finally allowing Stanley to drive through towards Nadia's apartment, which was not too far away from his brother's place on Casper Island. He turned on the radio as he drew closer to the Weller Bridge leading to Casper Island, hoping any news broadcast would help him understand what was going on over there.

"—but they did start around a couple of minutes before noon. Local police have begun to cordon off the bridges leading to Casper Island from both the Amitrano and Portigon mainlands. The motivation for these riots is presently unknown at this point, but we will keep you up to date with further developments. The fact is that the riots began several hours after the brutal murders of five people early this morning by a single elderly man…"

Stanley stopped paying attention as he made his way towards the bridge. He wasn't going to get much more information now that they had gone back to reporting on the attacks that morning, but since then, they had been upped to murders?

There was something about these news stories that disturbed him.

* * *

_**12:49 p.m. – Weller Bridge  
Casper Island, New Barkham**_

Stanley was halfway across the lengthy bridge when he spotted a scattered group of police officers in riot gear trying to fend off some of the rioters. Even though the officers were equipped accordingly, it didn't deter the rioters as they attempted to take swipes at them. One of them even brought an officer down and from the looks of things, tried to eat him. Stanley was shaken, taking extra care to drive around them. He knew he was entering dangerous territory, but if no one else could help Isabel and her friend, he was going to have to do it. It wasn't because he wanted to be a hero. He just cared about her.

As he crossed the bridge, he could see things were getting worse on the suburban island. Cars were swerving all over the road trying to avoid the people running across the streets in bloodied clothes. He wasn't sure if he was seeing things properly, but some of them had very serious injuries to their bodies, including gruesome gaping holes in their skin.

He didn't notice that his slow driving left him vulnerable as he took in the sights. Consequently, one of the rioters ended up smacking into his passenger window. Stanley jumped in his seat, accidentally hitting his head on the top of the car. The man was hideous. His eyes were completely white, but he could feel them glaring at him. The man let out shrieking noises as he continued to slap against the window, alerting his fellow rioters that there was someone to prey on. Stanley stared at the man and those behind him approaching. He was terrified. Perhaps this is what caused those people to stop dead in their tracks when that man attacked them that morning.

More of them began to run towards the car, and Stanley finally realized his exposure to the rioters. He snapped back into reality and pressed the accelerator harshly, causing the car to jerk through the growing number of people approaching and sped down the road. He was running out of time.

* * *

_**12:57 p.m. – Nadia's Apartment Complex  
Casper Island, New Barkham**_

Stanley swerved into the parking lot outside the complex, not bothering to align his car properly with the parking space. His surroundings were void of any of the strange looking rioters, and he assumed they were making their way towards the bridges, hoping to cross into the mainlands. He checked his watch. It had taken him almost forty minutes to get here and that was when Isabel had told him that they were in the building.

"I hope she's okay," he thought to himself, making his way towards the entrance as the sun gave a bright afternoon glare. He felt anxious, hearing screams in the distance. He climbed the steps to the entrance and ended up almost stumbling over a lead pipe lying by the decorative bushes next to the door. He looked at it and hesitated for a moment, before bending down and picking it up, unsure why he even did so. It felt cold in his hands despite the sunlight supplying it heat, but he had no idea what was going on in the building. You couldn't be too careful, although it was fairly quiet inside.

Inside, blood decked the walls and the floor, glowing in the small amount of sunlight reaching the lobby. Stanley stopped for a moment, sickened by the sight. He had never seen so much blood in his entire life. He leaned against the wall, trying to suppress his gag reflex.

"You have to keep going," he told himself. "She's just upstairs ... hopefully."

After several deep breaths, he attempted to cross the floor, careful not to slip as he grabbed hold of the banister and made his way up the main staircase. Nadia's apartment was on the third floor. The staircase creaked as he cautiously took one step at a time up the stairs. As far as he knew, the place was abandoned, but he remained vigilant.

He felt a sort of nostalgic feeling as he climbed the stairs. Isabel had invited him here once when Nadia had held a farewell party on their last day of college. The ghostly laughs of the past echoed faintly. He shook off the feeling, concentrating on what he might find when he made it to her apartment.

Arriving on the third floor, he found that it too, was empty, except for the odd snarl far down the hall. Stanley was creeped out. Nadia's apartment door was partially ajar. It was an eerie setting, with the door slowly swinging, creaking as it did so. He stepped inside, examining the main living room. The glass coffee table lay in pieces with some shards of glass covered in blood with the rest of the furniture also in disarray.

"Hello?" he murmured, just loud enough for anyone in the room to hear. He shut the door behind him and locked it. Carefully listening, a bit of scuffle could be heard from the kitchen. His sweaty grip on the pipe tightened as he approached the kitchen doorframe, but it was blocked by a toppled bookcase as well as some end tables on top. He heard the faint whimper of 'shh' on the other end and some sobbing.

"Isabel? Nadia? Is that you guys in there? It's me."

"Stanley?" cried Isabel's voice on the opposite end of the barricade. "Oh thank god!" He heard her pull away the end tables, and was relieved to see her face through the small space she freed up. Small droplets of blood were clinging onto her otherwise beautiful face. However, the situation in the kitchen looked dire at best. There was a man lying on the floor, with a knife planted in the back of his head while Nadia, Isabel's closest friend was slumped against the dishwasher in the corner. Tea towels were wrapped around her leg, soaking in blood.

As soon as he climbed through, Isabel threw her arms around him and hugged him. She was trembling quite a lot.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. He felt comfortable with her embrace. "What happened?"

She let go, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Most of them, they … they ran right past chasing the others down the hallway," she said, shaken. "But this man came in and started swiping at us." She looked like she was going to break down completely. "He was going to kill us Stan…"

"It's alright, it's alright," he said, holding her shoulders. He looked into her eyes for a moment before he realized what he was doing, and he felt that she realized as well. Thankfully Nadia moaned in pain, giving him a distraction.

"Is she okay?" he asked, immediately letting go before crouching next to her. Carefully, he lifted up the makeshift bandage as she hissed in pain.

"This man tackled her to the ground. They fought for a bit until he ended up biting her leg. She nearly passed out. I didn't know what to do. I just got the knife off the chopping board and then I … I just…"

She couldn't continue. He understood.

"Okay listen, we need to get out of here now. It's hell out there," said Stanley.

"We can't leave her here Stanley."

"I know," he told her. He dropped the pipe in his hands before crouching down again. He grabbed Nadia's arm, wrapping it around his shoulder. "I just parked outside, but we need to hurry. They might come back and she needs to get that checked out now."

"Okay," she breathed nervously. "Okay. Let's go."

Isabel led the way, climbing out through the barricade first.

"You're going to be fine okay? We're taking you to the hospital," assured Stanley as he assisted her over the fallen bookcase. She nodded, but she looked dizzy. He guessed she might've had a fever of some sort, but it was way too soon for her to get one.

He took her out into the hallway where Isabel was staring down over the balcony towards the lobby. The inhumane howls grew louder as well as the thudding on wood.

"Are they…?" asked Stanley, but he already knew. Isabel nodded frantically.

"Quick, back inside," he whispered, and all three of them ran back inside the apartment. Isabel shut and locked the door as Stanley looked around for another way out.

"The … fire …" said Nadia, pointing towards the window. Stanley followed the direction of her finger and spotted the metallic structure outside.

"Let's go," said Stanley, supporting Nadia over to the window. Isabel went ahead, lifted it up and climbed out first, Stanley following. He had an excellent view of his surroundings from where he stood, and it looked grim. There were some fires out in the distance and a lot of people were scattering around the neighborhoods, chased by others. It was a frightening sight.

"Hurry!" cried Isabel. She was already on the first landing on the fire escape. Stanley nodded, taking extra care climbing down so to not fall as he helped Nadia down. Isabel was watching her surroundings worriedly, in case any more of them came around the corner. Eventually Stanley reached the bottom, Nadia still in tow.

"Okay, follow me," he said, leading them towards the corner.

He stopped and took a peek around it. Five of them were wandering aimlessly, all spread out. Stanley cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong?" asked Isabel.

He slumped against the wall, taking a moment to think of a plan.

"Wait here, alright?" He held his hand out in a stop gesture.

"What are you going to do?"

He hesitated. "I'm going to get in the car and drive it over here," he told them. "Just wait here, and when I come, you need to get in as quickly as possible okay?"

Isabel nodded as Stanley helped Nadia get support from Isabel. When the two were alright, he felt reluctant to follow through with his own plan.

"C'mon, we need to get out of here," he tried to convince himself.

He took some more deep breaths and slowly snuck around the corner, keeping out of sight. He was hoping to avoid confrontation, but one of them mindlessly began to turn in his direction. Stanley carelessly slid behind a dumpster, banging against it.

"Damn," he muttered as he listened to their moans of alert. They probably heard him. There was no other cover between the car and the dumpster. That meant his only option now was to make a break for it.

He waited anxiously, scolding himself over and over for even going through with this attempt to get to the car as he waited for the opportune moment. Believing they shrugged off the bang, he took one last look to see what they were doing. However, he was surprised to see them shuffling towards him, sniffing the air.

They knew he was there.

He knew he didn't have a choice. Stanley dashed out of his position, narrowly dodging the man closest to him. His eyes too, were purely white, and his snarl revealed his teeth coated in blood. The SUV was only a couple of meters away, but it felt like he was running a marathon as the other four in the vicinity also spotted him. They sprinted towards him, shrieking.

Stanley tried to concentrate, hoping not to make the fatal mistake that those in the movies do: fumbling their keys at the last second. It slid in the lock with ease. He wrenched the door open, quickly hopping inside and pressing the lock.

They slammed against the door, struggling to get to him. Stanley took the time to collect his breath for a moment. It didn't last long. One of them succeeded in smashing their hand through the window and tried to grab him.

"Argh!" he yelled, wrestling the arm as he started the car. He put it in reverse and reversed backwards, knocking the man onto the pavement. Switching back to drive, he drove towards Isabel's position around the corner while the other four gave chase immediately with their monstrous growls.

Turning the corner, he found them leaning against the wall, staring at a man and a woman who were running towards them in the same disturbing way the others he had encountered were. He screeched to a halt next to them.

"Quick!" he yelled as Isabel helped Nadia into the car. They were getting closer, but Isabel managed to shut the door in time.

"Go Stanley!" she cried.

Stanley didn't think twice. He floored it out of there.


	3. Medical Care

**Chapter Three**

**_1:09 p.m. – Weller Bridge  
Casper Island, New Barkham_**

Stanley swerved around another corner onto the next street adjacent to the Weller Bridge. They were being pursued by some rather persistent people, all of whom were mutilated and with the same disturbing eyes. Stanley found the way they ran especially freaky.

"How is she?" asked Stanley, looking in the rear view mirror to see Nadia's condition.

"Not too good," she reminded him. "We have to get to the hospital real soon."

He nodded, knowing she was running out of time as he drove up onto the bridge. He switched the radio back on to hear if the station picked up on the odd behavior and appearance of the rioters on Casper Island.

"—just looking outside my apartment window now and there's a bunch of them police vans heading to the Weller Bridge," said a caller on the radio. "I dunno if they're going to fight them rioters or if they're just gonna cut 'em off."

"Okay thanks for that Mr. Sands," said the host, sounding like he regretted allowing that man to speak on the radio. "Next up is Jonas Heckler from his home in Crowshore. Jonas, what do you think is going on over there?"

Stanley ceased paying attention once again. If the police really were going to cordon off the island, they needed to cross back into Portigon now and it was unlikely he'd be able to return. Not that he wanted to.

He slowed down before turning back onto the main road again, which was once again plagued with traffic. Thankfully it was on the other side of the road, with people foolishly trying to cross into Casper Island, likely to get to their friends and family as Stanley had done. It was too bad they had no idea what they were about to deal with. The police convoy avoided the traffic jam as they turned onto the bridge to begin their construction of a roadblock.

"Stanley…" said Isabel worriedly. Stanley checked the mirror and saw Nadia moaning as she drifted in and out of unconsciousness. Something was definitely wrong. There was no way a small injury like that could affect someone that much.

"Damn it," he muttered. He sped up, dodging traffic by switching lanes each time he encountered another car in front. Normally he wouldn't drive so fast, firstly because of the large police presence in this commercial district, but also because he wasn't the speedster type. He was nervous enough driving at 60mph on the odd occasion.

"Come on Nadia, stay awake," pleaded Isabel as Stanley continued to speed towards the hospital. He only hoped that they would make it in time.

* * *

**_1:31 p.m. – Ophelia Memorial Hospital  
Poritgon, New Barkham_**

Stanley screeched to a halt at the loop road in front of the hospital, likely burning out part of his tires. Nadia was barely conscious now. Stanley hopped out and quickly got Nadia from the backseat, wrapping her arm around his shoulder once more. Isabel followed as Stanley barged into the hospital reception with Nadia in tow.

"I need help!" he called out. "Somebody help!"

The lobby burst into action as doctors suddenly ran in from all corridors. People sitting in the seats stared as doctors approached to check out the situation. One of them crouched and began to examine Nadia, who was now in a drunken sort of state, unresponsive.

"Get a stretcher out here now!" called the doctor. Stanley wiped the sweat off his forehead in anxiety as he retreated towards Isabel.

"Something's wrong," he told Stanley as he continued to check her, which was actually quite obvious. He looked surprised for a second before he made his judgment. "I think we need her in surgery now."

"Wait what?" said Stanley, taken aback. "She's only been hurt in the leg, why do you need to do surgery?"

"Because it looks badly infected," he said. "And her condition is worsening, we have to try and keep her stable."

He inspected her injury further while he waited for the stretcher to come. "Are those teeth marks? What bit her? A dog, what?"

"A man did actually," said Isabel, looking uneasy at Nadia's condition. She also looked uncomfortable to say so, but Stanley felt it was best for the doctor to have all the facts.

The doctor looked at them skeptically, as if he didn't believe them but he didn't have time to question further as men came with a stretcher. Nadia was raised onto it and brought into a lift to go upstairs to the operating theatre.

"Let's go," said Stanley, gesturing at Isabel to follow him.

They made their way up the staircase quickly, following the overhead signs to the surgery room on the fourth floor. However due to its restricted access, they were forced to take a seat in the corridor nearby. They could do nothing now but wait for news.

Isabel buried her face in her hands while Stanley sighed in relief. They managed to get her here in time. He relaxed a little, dipping his hands in his pockets. He felt his phone in there.

"I'd better try Lane again," thought Stanley. Fishing it out, he dialed Lane's office number. Isabel saw him dialing the number and nodded.

"This is Lane Parfetti, VP of Internal Security here at Yoshida International Industries, how may I help you?"

"Lane?" asked Stanley, despite his rather lengthy answer of the phone introducing himself.

"Stanley? What the fuck? Why're you calling? I told you to stay away from me. That includes calling."

"I'm uh, at the hospital. Isabel is with me."

"What!? Is she okay? I told you to stay away from her!"

"Whoa," said Stanley, taken aback by all of the questions at once. "Relax, she's fine."

"Okay," he said, sighing in relief. "What are you doing with her? I thought I told you to piss off."

Stanley knew where this was going. The fight they had three weeks ago before he cut off with him. His brother was a jealous person, and he didn't want him getting the wrong idea, especially since his glaring mistake earlier at Nadia's apartment.

"Err, haven't you been watching the news?"

"I can't. I'm swamped with work here at my desk Stan. Tell me what happened."

Stanley rose from his seat and began to pace around, hoping it would make it easier for him to recall what happened. "Well, there's a riot on Casper Island. Isabel was at Nadia's place and the rioters were in the building. She couldn't get a hold of you or the police so she called me up instead. I managed to pick them both up, but we ran into some of them."

"What do you mean?"

"They were strange, I'm telling you. There was something wrong with their eyes, and they had this monster kind of feeling about them, you know? Like they weren't human anymore."

"Huh? What are you talking about? What monster feeling?" He sounded like he figured his brother had gone nuts.

Stanley knew he wouldn't understand over the phone. "Ugh, forget it, it's a long story. The point is that we're waiting here at the hospital because Nadia is in surgery. They just got started."

"Nadia is? How come?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, she's in real bad shape. One of them managed to…"

But Stanley did not finish his sentence. He could hear some commotion going on in the operating theatre. Isabel hurriedly ran over to see what was happening inside through the glass panel.

"I'll call you back Lane."

"Why, what's happened?"

"I'll call you back!"

Stanley hung up and ran to where Isabel was. She ran her fingers through her hair in distress as a rapid beeping noise came out of the machine next to Nadia.

"She's crashing!" called one of the surgeons. "Get her a shot of adrenaline, hurry!"

The four surgeons in the room hurried, trying to stabilize her. One of them jabbed a syringe into the IV while another began chest compressions in an effort to keep her alive.

Isabel swallowed as tears formed in her eyes. "Oh no."

"Charging," called another surgeon as she came up with the defibrillator in her hands. The surgeon giving chest compressions backed away as she lifted the defibrillator. "Clear!"

Nadia's body jolted upwards, but the monitor kept on displaying a flat line.

"Come on," said Stanley, biting his lip as he embraced Isabel so she would turn around. "You don't want to watch this."

Her head fell on his shoulder in defeat and she began to sniff. He had no desire to watch either, but he had to see if they were going to be able to save her or not.

"Hit her again Jill!" called the same doctor from the lobby who was working in the room. She complied, jolting her once more with the defibrillator. Again, nothing happened except for the steady beeping noise. Stanley knew what that meant. He covered his eyes in despair as Isabel continued to sob on his shoulder.

The surgeons looked like they had given up. The doctor shook his head in failure and looked outside to see Stanley watching. Removing his gloves, he shuffled out the door towards them. Their eyes caught for a moment before he said something.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We don't know what went wrong; she went into cardiac arrest and we weren't able to save her." Stanley looked stunned. Cardiac arrest from a small injury to the leg?

"How could this happen?" whimpered Isabel, taking it all in. Her voice was muffled as she remained on Stanley's shoulder. "From one simple bite? A bite!?"

Stanley hoped the doctor could answer, as he wanted to know how such a thing could've happened. The doctor looked saddened by his failure as well. Stanley guessed it must have been embarrassing for him to fail to save someone from a small bite wound. But Stanley didn't blame him. It was ridiculous for someone to die from such an injury.

"We won't know until we conduct a full autopsy but… we'd need consent from her immediate family to do so."

There was an awkward moment of silence between the three before the doctor spoke once more. "You'll probably want to contact any relatives she may have and inform them of what happened."

He hesitated for a moment. "I'm so very sorry."

Patting Isabel on the back for support as he gave Stanley a sympathetic look, he headed back into the operating theatre for clean up.

The two stood silent for a minute or two, neither having any desire to say anything about what happened in there. Eventually Isabel spoke up.

"I have to call her father," she said, still not letting go. Stanley himself felt so empty. It was a familiar feeling as this had happened when his father was carjacked a few years back, and it ended the same way too: with him watching him die in surgery. Granted he wasn't that close to Nadia, but they were friends.

His eyes fell closed as he began to remember the fateful day.

***

_Stanley stumbled alongside his brother, who had been getting ready for college once two police officers came to pay a visit to them that morning. His lack of sleep was bothering him, but Lane continued to aid Stanley in standing. The officers had left the two of them alone._

_Lane seemed to be sniffing the air before turning to his brother. "Are you drunk!?"_

_Stanley shook his head innocently, his eyes wandering to his father lying on a table with numerous doctors working as hard as they could to keep him alive. "Where's Pam?"_

_Lane glared at him. "Are you fucking serious? She's probably at the police station, shaken as hell!"_

_"What do you mean? She was meant to land at the airport last night."_

_"Yeah, and she was with dad when it happened." Lane bit his lip, contempt growing on his face. "Apparently they were meant to go pick you up at a club in."_

_This revelation pierced Stanley like a knife. "What?"_

_"Dad was yelling something on the phone about you sneaking out. What the hell were you thinking?"_

_"I..." Stanley didn't know what he could say. This was all too shocking.  
_

_"Our sister was raped Stanley, and our father's in there clinging onto his damn life. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"_

_"I -- of course it does, it's just..." He was overwrought with guilt. Looking through the glass, the doctors began working frenzily on his father. Rapid beeping noises echoed from inside..._

_***  
_

His eyes opened up again when he heard a lot of activity inside the operating theatre.

"Oh my!" cried the doctor, backing away from Nadia's corpse. He looked stunned, as did everyone else. Stanley was unable to see what was going on, but he saw soon enough what they were so surprised about. Nadia was rising from the table, despite the monitor continuing to show a flat line.

"What the hell?" whispered Stanley, squinting to see what was happening inside. Nadia was looking crazily around the room at the surrounding surgeons. Everything and everyone was still for a couple of seconds before the silence was shattered by a strong shriek from Nadia. Isabel jumped in surprise as she turned to see what was going on.

Nadia leaped off the table, predator like as she fell on top of Jill, the female surgeon. She screamed as Nadia dug her teeth into her flailing arms. Stanley couldn't see what she was doing behind the operating table, but it looked gory as blood squirted into the air.

"Oh my god," said Stanley, letting go of Isabel before dashing into the room. The other doctors desperately tried to pull Nadia off the fallen doctor but she ended up turning her attention on them. She succeeded in knocking them all down with considerable strength, despite her critical condition moments before and focused her teeth on the one closest. Stanley saw Jill lying on the ground, likely dead from a large gash on her neck and the multiple bite marks on her forearms. She left a rather large blood pool on the floor.

"Nadia! What's wrong!?" asked Isabel. Nadia turned to look at her, but she wasn't the same. Her eyes were dead white, just like the others he had seen just under an hour ago. Isabel halted, looking fearful. The remaining two doctors hurried out of there. People out in the corridor began to scream in panic.

Isabel stood confused as to Nadia's state, leaving her vulnerable to her pounce. She yelped as she fell onto the cold floor with Nadia trying to gnaw her face off. Isabel had her hands on her throat, keeping her at bay, but it wouldn't be for long as Nadia drew closer to her face.

"Nadia, what the hell is wrong with you?" asked Stanley as he ran to her side.

Stanley tried to calm Nadia down, but she only turned and snapped her jaws at his hands. Stanley withdrew them just in time.

"Get … off … me … Nadia …" pleaded Isabel, squirming on the floor as Nadia's teeth drew closer. Stanley clenched his own teeth as he kicked her off, trying not to hit her too hard. Nadia squealed as she rolled off of her. Stanley offered his hand and picked Isabel up from the floor. She was shaken by the unexpected attack from her lifelong friend.

"Don't move," warned a security guard, wielding a stun gun in his hand. Isabel stumbled out of the room with Stanley. They turned to see what was going on, but it just got worse as Nadia disregarded his threat and attempted to attack. Another security guard came running into the room to help his buddy.

Stanley saw Jill, the doctor that Nadia had first attacked get up from the floor with the same lifeless eyes. He found it extraordinary, bearing in mind that she looked pretty dead to him just a minute ago. However, she too let out a high pitched squeal and made a run for the two security guards. "We need to leave, now!"

He grabbed Isabel's hand and led her down the corridor to follow the others who were no doubt getting out of the building also to escape the mayhem. Even some of the patients were struggling to move after hearing what was going on.

"But Nadia…" protested Isabel, looking back.

"I don't think she's even herself anymore," said Stanley, convinced that she had changed. He was unsure why Nadia all of a sudden became as hostile as the other people they had encountered. All he knew was that she was too dangerous to be around with right now, seeing as she just managed to take down four people by herself. "Now come on!"

The attack no doubt reminded him of the morning news report about that Morton person taking down five people. Stanley found it easier to believe that he would've taken down those five people if the elderly man had the same stamina and strength that Nadia had.

Hopping down the stairs, they ended up in the lobby. Several people were trying to get through to the police on their cell phones but were unable to do. The emergency line was likely to be busy still. Moving past the others, they ran to Stanley's SUV which was out on the loop road still. The afternoon sun hit his eyes hard as he moved towards the vehicle.

"Come on, get in the car," said Stanley, hopping inside. Isabel climbed into the passenger seat, oblivious to the coffee stains on the floor from earlier on. Starting the car, Stanley didn't waste any time in driving out of there and back out onto the streets.

* * *

**_1:52 p.m.  
Portigon, New Barkham_**

"Where are we going?" asked Isabel, choking on her tears.

"We're going back to my place," he said, not knowing where else they could go. The day was getting stranger and he was getting more and more confused by the minute. They weren't just 'rioters' to Stanley. He guessed they were people sick with some sort of disease or illness. He put the volume on the radio up to see if they shared the same suspicions.

"—advising people to return home from work and stay there. Army units stationed in Damuca County are now being brought into Casper Island to quell the growing riots, but rumors have begun that the riots have spread out into the mainlands. Once again, the authorities are recommending people return home and remain there until the rioters are subdued."

Stanley took a mental note of the report and called his brother at work to tell him the frenzied events that occurred only in the past fifteen minutes. Time wasn't exactly flying by.

"Stanley? Why did you cut me off before? Is Isabel still there?"

"I'll explain everything as soon as I can, but you need to come to my loft off Seasons Avenue. You remember where it is right?"

"Hang on, what? I'm at work here. I'm about to enter an important meeting; something to do with one of our latest products being illegally obtained. I can't just — "

"Listen, you need to —"

But Isabel, who was listening to the conversation, snatched the phone off Stanley upon hearing his reluctance to come. "Lane, my baby, please. I need you right now. It's been terrible. Please … just come."

Stanley felt punctured by her use of the word 'baby' but remained focused on the road ahead. Lane was silent for a minute, seemingly trying to choose between his job and his girlfriend.

"All right sweetheart," he said. It sounded like he made his choice only because she was in distress. "I'll try to get there soon."

"Thank you," said Isabel, hanging up the phone and putting it aside. She looked very upset. Stanley looked at her caringly for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. If those people were indeed in the mainlands also, he needed to get them to his loft as soon as possible, out of their way.

He had failed to save one person today already.


	4. Stanley's Loft

**Chapter Four**

**_2:06 p.m. – Stanley's Loft  
Portigon, New Barkham_**

Stanley unlocked the door to his loft and let Isabel inside. He shut the door as Isabel took a seat on his couch. Throwing his keys onto the kitchen counter, he grabbed the TV remote and switched on the TV.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, getting himself a glass of water from the tap.

"No," she said quietly, turning to look at him. "Thank you, I'm fine."

He gave her a smile of encouragement, knowing she had already gone through a lot in the past two hours. He himself went through the same things, but he was doing his best to suppress it all for now.

About to take a sip from the glass, he heard knocks at the door. Isabel scooted across the couch; a feeble attempt at distancing herself from the door. Stanley put down the glass and approached the door.

"Who is it?" he called nervously.

"It's me Stan," said his brother. "Open the door."

Isabel looked like her spirits were raised a mile in the air while Stanley sighed in relief. Unlocking the door, he let his brother inside.

Lane's eyes fell on his girlfriend on the couch as soon as he walked inside.

"Oh my god," he said, seeing all the blood on her clothes. He rushed to her side quickly and the two collided into a hug. "Are you okay sweetheart?"

"I'm fine Lane," she said, laying her head on his shoulders as her eyes tore up. "I'm so glad you're here."

Stanley turned away, closing his eyes. "I'm just gonna change out of these," he said, looking down at his suit, which had a bit of blood from the man that grabbed him in his car back at Nadia's apartment.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there Isabel, I really am," Lane told her, kissing her forehead and ignoring Stanley. Stanley ignored them and dismissed himself to his bedroom.

He shut the door as soon as he got inside and quietly banged his head against it. He felt hurt inside, but he ignored the pain as he unbuttoned his shirt. He could hear Isabel recounting their story as he tossed his shirt aside and pulled on another polo and jacket. He also swapped his trousers for a pair of dark jeans.

Although he wanted to return to the lounge to check out the news, he didn't feel like going back into a room with those two again.

"She's with him, okay?" he told himself, as he had said many times before. "You're her friend, that's all. Get over it."

He stood in his room for a while, taking a few deep breaths before he opened the door and feigned a smile of happiness. The TV was on mute and Isabel was lying on the couch with her eyes closed, clutching Lane's hand.

"Hey," said Lane, gesturing at Stanley. "Would you mind…?"

He pointed at his bedroom. Stanley looked at her lying on the couch napping and nodded. Lane gave a smile of appreciation as he carried Isabel in his arms to the bedroom. Stanley removed the mute effect and lowered the volume on the TV as Lane came back out a few minutes later.

"I want to thank you," he said. "For taking care of her I mean."

Stanley looked at him and then back at the TV. "Yeah, it was nothing, don't worry."

He could feel Lane studying him with his eyes. Stanley knew he could tell that something was wrong. He remained still as his brother took a seat next to him, putting his arm around him.

"What's up Stan?" he asked, looking sincere. Stanley looked up at his older brother, not knowing what to say.

"Well, we just went through a whole bunch of violence in the street," said Stanley, his voice beginning to shake. "And we watched Nadia die … before she woke up again and attacked Isabel. I have to say that there's a lot that's up, Lane."

"Right," he said, looking grim. "Sorry, I – I didn't mean it like that."

The two were silent for a moment as Stanley focused on the TV. There was footage of a reporter in front of a blockade around Ophelia Memorial Hospital. The place was looking really busy.

"—with some of the injured being diverted **away** from Ophelia Memorial due to a panic attack on the upper floors, with some of the staff and patients still trapped inside. This leaves the Saint Reagan Hospital on the opposite end of the city in Amitrano and the few scattered medical clinics around the city the only operational healthcare facilities left."

"I think I know."

Stanley turned to face his brother. His brother lifted his head up, acknowledging his quick reaction to the sentence.

"What?" asked Stanley, looking him in the eye.

"I want you to answer me honestly," he said with a straight face. He sighed as he thought about what he was about to ask. "You like her, don't you?"

Stanley looked at his feet, speechless as he thought very carefully about his next move. Lane scratched his chin in anticipation of his answer.

"No," he said flatly after much thought. "She's your girlfriend. I just happen to be her friend."

Lane didn't look convinced. Stanley guessed he should've lightened up his tone. Lane seemed to be studying his face, trying to pick up on any hints that would contradict his answer. But Stanley didn't back down. He stared straight into his brother's eyes.

Lane sneered before pointing his finger accusingly at him. "Don't try anything Stanley. You should be happy for me… for us."

"Count on it."

Lane gave a mischievous smirk before his pager beeped in his pocket. He cursed as he retrieved it. Stanley smiled.

"You work for a high-tech defense contractor, and they give you pagers to communicate with each other?" asked Stanley.

"Yeah, whatever," said Lane dully, ignoring Stanley's tease as he returned his pager to his pocket. "I don't have my phone with me, it's back at home. Listen, I have to head back."

Stanley looked at his brother quizzically. "What do you mean? Isabel just went through a really tough time. She needs you, and you're just going to drive back to Yoshida? There's a riot going on out there Lane."

But Lane was already at the door. He turned to look at him. "I have to go back. Trust me, it's important." He hesitated for a moment. "Look after her will ya?"

He gave Stanley a glare which roughly translated to: "Don't try too hard, or else…"

Stanley crossed his arms to show the disgust he had for Lane's extreme jealousy and after a while, nodded. Lane's eye twitched as he shut the door, as though he got the message.

* * *

**_3:35 p.m. – Stanley's Loft  
Portigon, New Barkham_**

Stanley was still watching the news, but the footage being shown was exceptionally gruesome. He couldn't believe that some of these recordings were happening just a block away. Although he felt quite safe inside his loft, he wasn't sure if it was going to protect both Isabel and himself from the approaching horde.

Nadia and her sudden transformation were still fresh in his mind, although he had grown exceptional at suppressing his emotions ever since he watched his father died. That reminded him that he still needed to contact Nadia's father, although he felt it could wait until things cooled down a little outside.

Hearing a click at his bedroom door, he snapped his head towards it and saw Isabel walking out, looking a little drowsy and upset over the events.

"Hey," said Stanley encouragingly, holding his hand up in a greeting.

"Hi," said Isabel, rubbing her eyes as she stumbled towards the couch.

Stanley rose from his seat and walked towards the kitchen. "I made you something. Noodles are the only thing I know how to cook properly, so I hope they'll do."

Isabel smiled weakly as she sat on the couch. "Thanks Stanley."

"And uh, I think Pam left some of her clothes with me before she left." He studied her blood-drenched clothes. "You can uh, borrow them if you want... It's not like she's coming back to collect."

She gave a weak smile before looking around the loft. "Thanks. Where's Lane?"

Stanley looked up at her. "He headed back to Yoshida for something," he said, bringing the bowl of noodles over to Isabel. "I have no idea why, I mean, it's too dangerous out there right now, and you could use his support."

Isabel looked disappointed at his desertion, but she hungrily dug into the bowl of noodles Stanley had made. She was eating rather quickly, and Stanley couldn't help but chuckle at her gobbling.

"What?" she asked, blushing.

Stanley shook his head with a smile to tell her it was nothing. As she continued to eat, Stanley's cell phone rang in his suit pocket in his bedroom. He almost didn't hear it as more shrieks came from footage on the TV, but he ran into his bedroom to answer it.

"This is Stanley," he said.

"Stanley? It's Lane."

"Look," said Stanley, before Lane began any kind of interrogation. "I'm not doing anything okay? She's just sitting on the couch, eating noodles."

"Good, but that's not why I called."

Stanley rolled his eyes as he walked back into the lounge. "What's up then?"

"I need you to pack your things," said Lane. This was the first time he sounded like he actually cared about his brother since the collapse of his family a few years ago. "Take Isabel, and head out of the city towards Damuca County."

"Come on," said Stanley. "I know that the streets are dangerous, but we should be fine up here right?" He wasn't totally convinced about his answer though.

"No, you don't understand. This isn't just a normal riot."

"Then wh—"

"I don't have time to explain Stan! Get whatever you need, and start leaving the city now! You're running out of time before they block off the road out of the city."

Lane promptly hung up, likely to prevent Stanley questioning his demands again. Isabel looked up worriedly at Stanley, an empty bowl in her hands.

"What's up?" she asked, looking at Stanley's confused face. "Who was that?"

"Lane," he said. He had no idea what to say after that. He couldn't wrap his head around what Lane meant about how it was not a normal riot. It was quite obvious due to the strange appearance of the rioters, but he couldn't see how Lane would know this considering he never even encountered them, nor did he pay attention to the TV.

"What did he say?" she asked. Upon further study of Stanley's face, she flinched a little. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, yeah he's fine," assured Stanley. "He just told us we need to leave the city. Right now."

Isabel rose from the couch, putting the bowl aside. "Isn't he coming with us?"

Stanley sighed. "I don't know, he didn't say. But I have to take you out of here now." Isabel didn't look too happy, and Stanley knew why. "Look, Lane told me to take care of you. I'm sure he'll be right behind us once we get out of here."

But that was the thing. He _wasn't_ sure.

Isabel stood for a moment as she thought about what Stanley said. "All right."

Stanley smiled and nodded before running into his bedroom to retrieve a duffel bag.

"I'll grab some food while you get yourself sorted out," he called out, heading into the kitchen. Isabel nodded, walking into Stanley's room to get changed.

She came out a few minutes later. She had 3/4 jeans on with a floral dress covering up the upper part. Stanley switched off the TV, which displayed one last close up of one of the rioters.

"Okay, let's go, c'mon."

He pulled open the door for Isabel and followed her through with the bag in his hand. The corridor was unusually quiet. Generally, people were listening to loud music and had their televisions turned up, but now it was just dead silent. He supposed no one was at home. They had probably left the city already … or they never made it back after the announcement by the media.

Closing the door, Stanley led the way to the elevator at the far end of the hall. He pushed the button and laid the bag on the floor.

"What happens now?" asked Isabel. "Once we leave city limits I mean."

Stanley was unable to give her an answer since Lane didn't really tell him, but it didn't matter as the doors to the elevator opened. An elderly man was already inside, covered in blood and an injury on his neck. Isabel screamed as Stanley stepped back.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down young lady!" he said, holding a hand in the air while the other put pressure on his wound. He looked down on his bloodied clothes. "It's fine, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you guys."

Stanley kept his distance as he looked at him skeptically, Isabel right beside him. "You're not one of them, are you?"

"Do I look like one of them to you boy?" he barked. "One of them was upstairs, he hurt me pretty bad. I don't have those ugly eyes of theirs though don't I?"

Stanley was surprised to learn that some of them were upstairs, but he took his story under consideration. He was right; he didn't look or sound anything like the people outside and on the news, except for the blood of course.

The doors began to close but Stanley reached and stopped them. "Okay. C'mon Isabel, let's go."

She looked at Stanley hesitantly, but she trusted him and his judgment. She pushed the bag into the elevator with her foot and allowed the doors to close. Isabel looked uncomfortable being in such a confined space with a man who had blood pouring out of the back of his neck.

"We're going to be fine," assured Stanley.

But no sooner than he said so, the fire alarm in the apartment complex immediately went off, causing the elevator to lurch. The lights inside shut off as the alarm blared.

"What's going on?" asked Isabel, grabbing Stanley's arm. Stanley turned to look at the elderly man with them, but was shocked to find him on the floor. He must not have heard him collapse when the alarms went off.

"Someone must've pulled it to alert the people in the building," said Stanley, crouching down to examine the man. "It's okay. In case of a fire alarm, the elevator should go straight to the first floor."

As an architect, he figured this was the most likely thing to happen. But the elevator wasn't moving at all. However, that was the least of his worries. It was hard to see with minimal light but he determined the man fainted from the blood loss, although he wasn't so sure.

He retreated from the man back towards Isabel. "He needs medical attention, now."

Isabel looked worried as she saw his silhouette on the ground.

"Any minute now," thought Stanley, waiting impatiently for the elevator to go down. It took a couple of minutes for him to realize that it probably wasn't going to move at all.

"Damn it," said Stanley, fed up with waiting. "We need to get out of here."

"But won't we be safe in here? It's stuck right?"

Stanley glanced upwards at the ceiling of the elevator. "We can't take a chance if they're already in the building." He pointed at the hatch above them. "Open that up."

"Isn't that dangerous? We should wait..."

Stanley thought about this. The car could restart at any moment, but he wasn't feeling too hopeful about help coming now since there were attackers in the building. The man needed urgent attention anyway.

"The guy's not gonna make it unless we move now."

Isabel nodded reluctantly before commencing to reach for the hatch. He could hear her grunting as she struggled. Stanley would have laughed in any other situation but he didn't have time for joking around anymore. He put his hands on her waist and helped her up. She was fairly light, making it easier for him, and for her to unlock the hatch and push it open.

She hoisted herself up with Stanley's help. He was about to follow by grabbing Isabel's hand, but something seized his leg.

Isabel watched helplessly from above as Stanley let go, yelling as he allowed the man to drag him to the floor.


	5. Risky Escape

A/N - Merry Christmas to you all and thanks for your continued support. I hope to carry this on well into the new year, so please review. I'd like to know what I can do to improve this story as much as possible. Enjoy your holidays!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_**3:44 p.m. – Apartment Elevator  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley fell onto the elevator floor; the man's distorted breathing smothering him. Although he couldn't see his eyes properly in the dark, he hazarded a guess that his eyes were now probably deadly white like the others. They wrestled, Stanley doing his best to keep him at bay. The man had his mouth open, ready to sink his teeth into him, a popular decision with the other aggressors they had come across.

Stanley pushed the man further away before rolling over, Stanley having the upper position. The man thrashed about, biting the air in hopes of catching Stanley's flesh.

"Stanley!" cried Isabel from above.

"Stay there," he yelled, holding the man down by the neck until he broke free, throwing him backwards. Isabel squealed as he fell against the wall. The man rose from the floor and charged, but Stanley had enough time to dodge him, causing him to crash face first into the metallic wall.

The man fell, stunned, giving Stanley time to catch his breath. He squirmed on the ground, struggling to get up. He couldn't help but stare at the writhing silhouette on the ground.

"Hurry!"

Stanley looked at the hatch, Isabel offering her hand. Utilizing the opportunity, he ran towards the hatch and grabbed her hand. She helped him up enough until he grabbed the edges of the hatch. He attempted to pull himself up, only to have the man grab his leg once more. The man's grasp was weaker than before, and Stanley took advantage of this. He kicked him square in the nose, the man yelping as he fell onto Stanley's gear bag.

"Damn it," he said, spotting the gear bag on the ground. He decided against retrieving it and climbed on top of the elevator car.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" asked Isabel over the blaring alarm, holding his shoulder. He could hear the man howling and the swishing of his arms in his futile attempt to reach them both.

"Yeah," he said, checking a small bruise on his arm. Isabel closed the hatch. "Don't worry about it."

"What happened to him?" she asked uneasily." I thought he wasn't one of them!"

"I have no idea," said Stanley, wiping his bloodied hands on his jeans. "But he is now, and we've gotta get out of here."

He pointed at the elevator doors just above them. It was just within reach as the elevator didn't travel far before the alarm sounded.

Stanley reached and gripped the tight gap between the two doors. He struggled to pull them open.

"Damn," he muttered, shaking his hand in pain after failing to get them open. He used his other hand to pound against the door. "Hello!?"

He struggled to be louder than the blaring alarm, but he wasn't sure anyone could hear. He wasn't however, going to let it deter his efforts.

"Help us!" shouted Isabel at the top of her lungs. "We're stuck, please!"

Nothing could be heard for a minute except for the alarm, but eventually a voice came through. "Is someone in there?"

Stanley put his ears against the door, relieved that someone heard them. It was a familiar voice.

"Eddie? Is that you?" called Stanley. Isabel looked confused as to whom it was, but she felt happy all the same. Someone was coming to rescue them.

"Yeah," said Eddie from the opposite end. "Who's there?"

"It's Stanley! Listen, we're in the elevator shaft. Could you get us outta here?"

"Stan? What the hell are you doing in there? You're not meant to use the lift in a fire."

Stanley almost laughed at Eddie's suspicions of his stupidity. "It's a long story. Could you get this thing open for us? Quick."

A sigh could be heard on the other side. Eddie seemed hesitant to help. "My nephew's in trouble, I've gotta go get him. Just stay there and wait for the fire department okay? They'll come and getcha."

"Please," begged Isabel. "Help us. We're on top of the elevator, and there's a man inside. He's just like them, we need to get out!"

Eddie continued to hesitate. "Look, some of those freaks are up stairs and they started a fire. I can't stay here."

"Neither can we. Eddie please. We need your help."

There was a moment's pause on the other end as Stanley waited impatiently for an answer. "Okay, fine." He sounded reluctant. "Just … just sit tight. I'll be back in a minute."

"Thank you so much." But there was no reply.

* * *

_**3:48 p.m. – Elevator Shaft  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

The alarm continued ringing as Stanley waited with Isabel for the next few minutes. Nothing was comforting about their time there, with the occasional moans from the man who for some reason seemed to have lost track of them, and the annoying alarm overhead.

"Who is that guy? And is he going to come back?" asked Isabel.

"Eddie's the maintenance man around here," said Stanley, nodding his head in assurance. "He'll come back for us ... I hope."

Isabel nodded, curling herself up further. Stanley noticed and wondered if it was because she was frightened or whether it was from the chilliness of the shaft.

"Are you cold?"

Isabel looked at him and shook her head. "Just scared."

He looked encouragingly at her. "We're going to be alright, okay? I promise you, we're going to get out of here."

She smiled faintly at his assurance while he breathed heavily, waiting for Eddie to come back. He had been gone a long time.

What if he wasn't going to come back? Stanley grew edgier by the second.

"Edd—"

**Clang!**

He and Isabel jumped at the sound of metal banging against the doors. The afternoon sunlight from the window nearby leaked through the gap in between the doors, hurting Stanley's eyes. He shielded them as he saw Eddie throw aside a pry bar and offered his hand to Isabel.

"C'mon, there ya go."

Once Isabel was safely out of the shaft, Stanley grabbed hold and climbed back into the corridor. He took a minute to adjust his eyes to the brightness.

"Is that the other guy?" asked Eddie, hearing the shrieks of the man inside the elevator. The loud clang apparently irritated him. Stanley nodded, but when Eddie almost climbed inside to go help, he barred him.

"Don't," he said. "He's one of them."

Eddie's eyes widened and he stepped back from the shaft. "So what were you guys doing inside an elevator with _him_?"

Stanley sighed deeply, reconstructing what happened in his head. "He was normal for like a minute. Friendly even, and then he collapsed. A second later, he suddenly wakes up and tries to kill me."

"Kill you? He had a weapon?"

Stanley almost sneered at the absurdity of what he was about to say. "No, he was trying to eat me or something. He kept trying to bite me."

Eddie glared unbelievingly at him before turning to Isabel, who nodded to confirm that was what actually happened. He didn't know what to say.

"Shouldn't we get out of here?" Isabel asked Stanley.

Stanley had forgotten about their objective. "Yeah. Thanks for your help Eddie. You'd better get out of here as well."

"Yep, I'll be doing that, just need to gather some things first is all." He gave them an encouraging nod. "Good luck you two."

"Thank you," said Isabel, giving a thankful smile as she tugged Stanley towards the staircase. On the eighteenth floor; they had a long way to go.

* * *

_**3:56 p.m. – The Lobby  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

The two of them hopped down the staircase, heading for the lobby, ignoring the screams from above. Stanley hoped that Eddie would be alright after they just left him up there alone. It took them a few minutes to arrive on the ground floor after racing down. They hurried out into the main lounge area where a blood trail led towards a backroom behind the reception desk.

Stanley skidded to a halt as he stared at the blood, as did Isabel. She choked at the sight. Some unsettling noises prompted an investigation. He made an approach for the room before Isabel held his arm, breaking his mesmerized state.

"Don't," she whispered. She avoided looking at the blood.

He swallowed at the noise of flesh being ripped apart and realized that maybe he actually didn't want to see what was in there.

They ran outside to see people panicking all over the street, but no one appeared to be attacking each other – yet anyway. Stanley spotted his SUV and pointed.

"Quick get in," he said, running towards the car, patting his fingers against his pockets. Isabel ran with him and grasped the door handle, waiting as Stanley continued to sift through his back and front pockets.

"Shit," he said, trying to recall where he left them. The second he closed his eyes to try and remember, the distinct rattle of keys sliding across a kitchen counter came to mind. "I left them in the kitchen."

He raised his hands in aggravation before beginning to run back inside, determined to get the keys.

Isabel called him back as she looked up to see a trail of smoke coming out of one of the windows in the upper floors. "You can't go back! It's dangerous!"

"It's too dangerous without a car," said Stanley, running his fingers through his hair. He buried his face into his hands, trying to think of something. "See if any of these cars still have the keys in the ignition."

"We can't just steal a car!" said Isabel.

"I know," said Stanley, thinking about the repercussions. "But right now, we've gotta get out of the city."

Isabel closed her eyes, pondering for a moment before agreeing. The pair searched the lot for any unlocked vehicles that still had the keys in them. It didn't take long, mostly because there were only eleven or so cars in the lot, excluding Stanley's.

"Any luck?" he asked, searching another.

"No."

Stanley cursed under his breath as he proceeded to check the final car, only to find it too was locked. The shrieks were growing louder, and sirens were coming from all directions.

"There's so many!" yelled a man in a waiter's uniform from the restaurant down a block away.

"Stanley, we need to go," pleaded Isabel, seeing the stampede of people. He buried his face once again and barely made out something through the gaps between his fingers. There was a marking on the parking space, and it gave him an idea. It was the only car sitting on a reserved employee's parking space.

"Isabel!" he called. "Get over here."

She took one last look at the incoming crowd of people before jogging over to him standing beside a dirty hatchback. "Stay by this car, I'm going back inside."

She glowered at him. "Are you crazy?"

Stanley turned to look at her, a pleading look etched on his face. She saw it and looked defeated. She wouldn't be able to stop him this time. "Where are you going?"

"Just in the lobby, I won't be long," he said, turning to race back inside. The sound of flesh being peeled off was now exchanged for a chorus of moans coming from the backroom. He began his search at the front desk, not wanting to go in there unless it was absolutely necessary.

"They've gotta be here," he thought, quietly canvassing the main desk for the car keys to the car parked in the employee's parking space. "Come on."

His rush to find the keys however, made him reckless. He accidentally knocked over a small pot containing pens, scattering them across the floor. The snarls inside the room stopped, replaced by incoherent murmurs of awareness.

Stanley studied his surroundings before picking up a rather large potted plant by the corner of the desk. He grunted as he lifted it up, barely holding it above his shoulders and staggered to the doorway, concealing himself. He breathed slowly as he shut his eyes for a second. He wasn't used to getting into fights, but he recently seemed to be getting involved in a lot.

A moment later, a decayed face poked its head out and looked straight at Stanley. He almost gagged at the sight, but his arms instinctively rose and smashed the pot against the man's skull. He fell forwards in front of the doorway, lying still.

His breathing became erratic at the sight of the motionless man lying in a pool of blood. A scowl in the back room reminded him that there was another. He seemed to be stumbling to the door due to the multiple chunks missing from his legs, giving Stanley ample time to slam the door straight in the man's face.

The stench from the man he subdued was unbearable, forcing Stanley to hold his breath as he patted him down for any keys. His immobility made the search easier, but it affected Stanley in a serious way.

"I hope he's not dead," he thought, shaken by the act he had done.

A jingling noise in the man's front pocket as he brushed over it boosted his spirits. He dug his hand in to retrieve the keys and made a dash for Isabel. The door for the room that Stanley locked the man inside was on its last hinge after receiving several beatings, but it didn't matter once he made it outside.

"I've got 'em, I've got 'em," he cried to Isabel, dangling them from his fingers as she stood nervously by the car. She had watched the entire thing.

"Oh thank god," she said, relieved. "Are you okay?"

Stanley hurriedly unlocked the door and jumped in the driver's seat. "I'm fine, get in."

He jammed the keys in and started the engine.

"Yes," he cheered in a whisper.

As soon as Isabel threw away some of the junk in the passenger seat and buckled up, he reversed out of the parking space and drove out of there. People were recklessly running out onto the road, pursued by the other 'monsters'. Stanley felt this term suited them better, as they seemed like the kind of people you'd encounter in horror movies. They definitely weren't rioters.

"Watch out!" screamed Isabel, pointing at a woman being tackled to the ground right in front of the car. Stanley put his focus back on the road ahead and swerved around her, barely keeping the vehicle on its wheels before turning around the block. Damuca County was usually a thirty minute drive, but with the unpredictable traffic flow, he wasn't sure how long this was going to take.

* * *

_**4:18 p.m.  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley tried to keep his eyes focused on the road while Isabel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The visor barely protected him from the glaring sun above. It almost resulted in crashes with four cars that drove dangerously in the past ten minutes, including a fire truck. Despite this, Stanley kept up his speed, taking care to make it out of the city if indeed the National Guard were planning on quarantining the area. He had no idea however, why they would need to be 'quarantined' as Lane had claimed. Was there some sort of viral disease in the city? He had a hard time believing that it might've been related to what was going on.

His mind elsewhere, he barely noticed an oncoming van driving at an incredible speed. They honked their horn in a warning, but Stanley got the message a little too late.

"Stanley!"

"Damn!" he yelled, attempting to veer away.

But this time the wheels didn't stay on the ground. The car lifted up, Stanley and Isabel both yelling and bracing for impact. He caught sight of the other van smashing into a lamppost before he felt his body shaking like a ragdoll along with the car, accumulating cuts and bruises from the smashing windows before the car finally rocked to a halt. He hung upside-down in his seat, feeling sharp pain in his head and right leg. He grasped his head, his vision all hazy. Other than the pain from those two areas, he felt alive at the very least. He turned his attention to Isabel to check if she was alright.

"Isabel?" he coughed, trying to look through the dust. "Isabel, are you okay?

It was a while before the dust finally settled. Her eyes were closed, and she remained still.


	6. ACT II: Yoshida International

**Chapter Six**

_**4:19 p.m.  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley struggled to unbuckle his seatbelt as soon as he laid his eyes on Isabel, but it seemed jammed. He repeated her name over a dozen times, trying to shift closer to her before feeling the sharp pain in his leg again. A shard of glass was embedded just below his knee, and the pain was agonizing.

"Argh," he moaned, reaching for it. He felt weak and feeble, but he needed to get Isabel out. She had to have survived.

He yelled, slowly tugging the shard out. Blood began oozing out but Stanley tried to apply pressure.

"Не делайте перевод на английский язык," called a heavily accented voice that Stanley couldn't comprehend. He turned to look to see if one of the monsters was going to ambush, but it was actually one of the men in the black van. He looked dazed as he clutched his forehead, blood trickling down.

So far, no traffic had stopped to help either party. The mob of people hadn't made their way over here yet, and the sidewalks were empty, meaning the streets were void of everything but speeding cars.

"Dmitri! We must leave now!"

It wasn't the man who stepped out of the van who had spoken. Another man, looking quite scruff with an overgrown beard and a dark trenchcoat also climbed out. His injuries were less severe, but he was hurt all the same.

"They may need our help," said the man referred to as Dmitri in his accented voice. He limped over towards the wreck where Stanley was when the road was clear. He wasn't sure if he could trust these people, but the one approaching appeared to have good intentions.

"In here," cried Stanley. "Help!"

"Dmitri, we need to transport these goods now! Leave them, the pigs can sort that shit out. Das Unternehmen will diese Waffen jetzt! Wir sind verloren."

Dmitri ignored his companion as he stumbled as quickly as he could. From the sound of things, they were two foreigners from different lands speaking their own languages. He couldn't understand either, and he wasn't sure how they could understand each other. Perhaps they both knew each other's language well.

He peeked inside, and saw Isabel stiff in her seat and Stanley twisting about in his.

"My god," he said.

"Please. You have to help her." He tried nodding towards her, but it was clear whom he referred to.

Dmitri fidgeted in his back pocket and pulled out a small metal device, but that wasn't what Stanley was scared to see. A part of a handgun could be seen behind his back. His wide eyes slowly drifted to see the man fiddling around with the tool. Eventually, a sharp blade sprung out. Stanley watched, still scared as he quickly started sawing through Isabel's seatbelt. He let her drop to the ground once he cut through. Placing two fingers on her neck, a look of relief spread on his face.

"She's okay. Just err – how you say in this country?"

"hautement drogué," muttered the other man, tapping his feet impatiently. "Come on. We can't let those rioters affect our operation, we must go!"

Dmitri shot the man a dirty look before showing his knife to Stanley. He got scared at this seemingly threatening gesture, but calmed down when he threw it towards him. It landed just within reach on the floor.

"Alright," said Dmitri, raising his hands in the air. "We go."

Stanley hurriedly cut through the seatbelt as the suspicious men returned to the car and drove off, feeling pain as he thudded onto the car ceiling. Most of his window had already shattered, allowing an easy escape. He slithered out onto the road, the asphalt burning from the glaring sun. It stung his cuts and hurt his bruises.

He staggered around the car, still ignored by the cars racing past. He hated their lack of aid, but then again, Stanley had done nothing thus far but help people he knew. They probably didn't trust him in case he was one of them.

He almost tripped as he came to Isabel's side due to the lingering pain. According to that Dmitri man, she was only unconscious but that didn't mean he had all day. There were still hundreds of blood-thirsty monsters spreading like cockroaches throughout the city. They were well away from the Weller Bridge to Casper Island where this whole thing started; meaning this part of the Portigon borough was yet to be overrun by a bunch of lunatics.

Gently, he pulled Isabel's motionless body out of the remains of their vehicle. Just to confirm, he placed his own two fingertips around the same place Dmitri had done. He felt a placid pulse, and Stanley almost fainted from relief. He scooped her up in his two arms and stumbled for the small alley between two projects. She wasn't heavy but because of his injured arms, she weighed a ton. His leg was also throbbing from that piece of glass, but the adrenaline seemed to be kicking in.

A small tremor in his pocket made Stanley pause by a set of dumpsters. No doubt it was Lane calling to follow up on their status. With Isabel in his arms, he couldn't answer. He decided to ignore it as he pressed onto the next street, the phone still vibrating. The place looked familiar with the towering office buildings and the littered billboards. Stanley had come through this route just the previous year to go to the Christmas party hosted by Yoshida International. Lane had been reluctant to invite him to the party but Isabel had insisted.

He was close to his brother's workplace.

* * *

_**4:36 p.m. – Lobby  
**__**Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ**_

Stanley panted, Isabel still in his arms as he struggled the last few steps to the magnificent entrance to the Yoshida Corporate Building on his bad leg. He barely made it up as his arms strained under Isabel's weight. The adrenaline was wearing off, but thankfully he already arrived.

Two men in suits were posted at the door inside, looking remarkably like Feds in a movie. The handguns in their hip holsters made him even more nervous to approach the entrance.

One of the men held up his hand at Stanley but his eyes were on Isabel in her slumber. His voice was barely audible through the thick glass. "I'm sorry; this is a secured private building. You must leave the premises immediately."

Stanley looked ready to pass out at this news. He couldn't travel much farther. "Look, my name is Stanley Parfetti, I'm Lane Parfetti's younger brother, and right now I have his girlfriend in my arms. Try telling that to your superior!"

The man's eyes widened in apparent recognition of the woman and he spoke into his ear piece. Stanley knew Lane was on the other end, being the head of security and all. The conversation lasted a while before the man eventually swiped a keycard through a reader by the door. It made a beeping noise as the doors opened, allowing Stanley inside.

Lane wasn't going to be happy when he saw her.

***

"Oh my god," shouted Lane, rushing to Stanley as soon as he arrived on the eleventh floor. Even their elevator system had a keypad for use. Fortunately the guard had access, because Stanley wasn't sure he'd have made it up the stairs.

Lane collected Isabel from Stanley's arms and took her to the employee's lounge. As he laid her down on one of the sofas, he caressed her forehead before turning to Stanley. He looked explosive. "What the hell happened!? I told you to get out of the city, and keep her **safe**!"

Stanley was speechless as his last word echoed in his ear. He felt guilty about what happened and it was his entire fault that she was like this now.

"Stay here!" warned Lane. He stomped out of the lounge, leaving Stanley to look after the woman he had feelings for that he had probably put into a coma. The other two men walked away, shaken by his outburst. He sighed, dragging an armchair over by Isabel and took a seat. That little bit of the terror before the crash was still etched on her face and Stanley felt even more responsible.

Lane returned a minute later with a first aid kit in his hands. Stanley watched as he got to work treating the several cuts on her forearm and face. Stanley could hear his frequent grumbles of his brother's inability to keep his girlfriend safe but other than that, neither spoke. He had no desire to argue with him. Their relationship was strained already. In fact, Stanley was sure the only reason he wasn't entirely cut off from his brother was because of his closeness to Isabel. The Christmas party was a perfect example.

Lane huffed as he cleaned the final wound and bandaged it. The kit snapped shut and he threw it onto the coffee table before checking his watch. They stood still for a moment in an awkward silence. Lane seemed to have suppressed his rage for now.

"Listen, the company's sending a helicopter over to pick us up, take us away from this hellhole," said Lane mindlessly. He was unwilling to speak directly to his younger brother. "At six o'clock. You obviously have no clue what's going on out there, with people eating each other, but you need to know that they might not want you or Isabel getting on that chopper."

Stanley stared blankly, unsure if he heard him correctly, but his brain was processing what he had been told. He had this habit of breaking down people's dialogue to see if he could pick up any hints as to what they were talking about if he didn't understand. What did he mean they weren't wanted on the helicopter? And why did he say 'you' instead of 'we' when he mentioned the happenings outside? Did Lane know something he didn't? Many questions buzzed around in his mind but he remained silent as Lane continued.

"I can't go into the specifics; company procedure. But I'll try to get you onboard that helicopter. Okay?"

He did not feel okay. There was a little twitch on the side of his brother's mouth. He could usually tell when his brother was lying. He'd always give off obvious tells, which was probably the reason why he got into so much trouble when they were kids. He did not however, want to believe his brother would in fact abandon him like this, no matter how much had brewed between them the past year or so.

Stanley had those pressing questions on his mind, but he couldn't decide which one to ask. Eventually, he decided on "What do you know about those people out there?"

Lane crossed his arms, his black tie jamming between them. His head tilted down as he tapped his feet, but he refused to speak. It made Stanley suspicious, but he figured Lane wasn't going to answer.

"Alright then," he said, despising his brother's secrecy as he moved to the next question. "What do you mean by company procedure?"

He sighed, knowing he had slipped when he said that. "Nothing. I was referring to why the executives have their reasons as to why you both can't get onboard."

He looked worriedly towards Isabel, but Stanley kept his gaze on Lane. He didn't want to see her injured body lying on the couch again. It still didn't make sense why the company wouldn't want Stanley or Isabel onboard that helicopter when Lane could be.

"And why's that?"

They were both locked in each other's gaze; Lane's much colder and fierce. He was tired of being interrogated by his own foolish brother.

"Sir," said a voice from behind Stanley. It was one of the guards posted at the entrance. It was at this moment that Stanley realized that the two guards and Lane were the only people in the building before they arrived. Had everybody else already evacuated, or was it naturally this empty because it was a Sunday? Something strange was going on.

Lane looked through Stanley at the man. "What is it?"

"Clarke is on the televised line in the conference room. He says it's important."

"Fine."

"And you should also know, those infected are coming up the main avenue, but the shatter-proof doors should keep them at bay sir."

Lane looked agitated. As though he was being told things he already knew. "Yeah okay, I'll be down in a second."

The man bowed out of the room while Lane adjusted his tie and jacket in preparation for the conference. Stanley didn't even bother asking who Clarke was. His boss perhaps?

Lane shot a glance towards his younger brother before heading out, maintaining his piercing stare. "Keep an eye on her for me will you?"

Stanley pursed his lips together and nodded before Lane slammed the door. He couldn't endanger her in a highly secured office building could he?

* * *

_**5:41 p.m. – Employee Lounge  
**__**Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ **_

Stanley rested his head on the arm of the chair. Lane had been gone for a seriously long time. It was creeping up on an hour since he left downstairs but he did not care. His older brother's lectures and evil stares were replaced by the angry cries and shrieks eleven floors down by the horde of people outside the building, dying to get inside. The noises at least made him feel more comfortable beside Isabel than Lane's voice. She had started stirring a few minutes ago, and Stanley guessed she was probably going to wake soon. A few seconds went by before, almost subconsciously, he reached out and held her hand.

A sudden warmth in his hands filled his hands, even though hers was cold. It was warmer than the afternoon sun which had already begun to set. This warm feeling caused him to second-guess his decision to not confess his feelings. It was almost ten years when she first met Lane through Stanley at an old friend's barbeque. Back when his brother wasn't as intense as he was now. He heaved a loud sigh at the thought of that moment just when Isabel finally opened her eyes, looking weary. Stanley immediately let go of her hand and got close to her, looking relieved and worried at the same time. She gave a small grin as she saw his face. "Where…?"

"It's okay," he explained. "We were in a car accident and I carried you over here. We're inside the Yoshida building. It's safe up here." He intentionally neglected to mention the inbound helicopter as he wasn't sure if Lane was bluffing.

"Carried … me?" she asked, confused. She still looked dazed but she turned her head towards her hand where Stanley's hand once was. She barely managed a smile. "What were you doing?"

He blushed at her question, perhaps a little too much as she let out a giggle. "Well?"

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as his brain kicked into overdrive, attempting to create a cover like it always had done when people gathered suspicions. His sudden brain activity showed on his face as he looked discomfited. He opened his mouth to lie, but in the end, all that came out was a long, regretful sigh. He'd been made.

"I…" his voice trailed off, realizing what he was about to do. He had kept it from everyone for so long, but now he was paying the price for his foolish mistakes today. A frown developed on his face as he pinched the part of his nose between his eyes. She watched him, waiting for an answer. Stanley realized she was just waiting for him to confirm her suspicions.

He took a deep breath. "I – like you."

It sounded almost childish. Like a kid confessing his crush to that pretty girl in the kindergarten. He closed his eyes and hung his head in humiliation. His eyes missed the sympathetic smile she had given him after his revelation.

She waited for him to look at her again (which took a _long_ time) before she spoke. "Oh, you're so sweet."

Stanley looked up confused. She maintained her sympathetic look as he continued to listen, ignoring the mood killing shrieks below. "But I'm with Lane now, Stanley. You're one of my closest friends and you've always been there for me. Whatever could have happened between us, it can't happen now. No matter how much you or maybe even I might want it."

He was shocked at her admission, but knew that she was right. "I… I understand…" His voice trailed off again.

Isabel continued, "I'm sorry, Stanley."

Stanley nodded, still stunned by what she had said. She seized the moment and brought him into a small hug. Stanley could tell it was one of comfort, not romance. Her words were a blow nonetheless, but the impact wasn't as bad as he had expected, after all these years of not saying a damn thing. What had he been so worried about?

As he let go, Stanley thought he heard a small scuffle by the doorway and the movement of a shadow caught his eye.

* * *

A/N - Thanks for reading guys. It's pleasing to see people reading. I'd like to apologize in case I made any mistakes with the German and Russian language above. After all, I just used a translator *embarrassed*. Please review if you have the time. I'll very much appreciate it.

- Prisoner617


	7. Executive Offices

**Chapter Seven**

_**5:50 p.m. – Employee Lounge, Eleventh Floor  
Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ**_

Stanley felt uneasy after seeing the movement by the door, unsure whether it was his brother spying on him to check if he wasn't doing anything behind his back. Lane was the kind of person who would do such a thing, and if he caught you, he would go ballistic. While Stanley usually would have been innocent, he wasn't sure if Lane would gather the right idea from the hug he shared with Isabel.

He was at the window, staring down at the hundreds of people running amok in the street below. Some of them were even huddling around the entrance but it was hard to see straight down. The speeding cars were now gone, with the only vehicles remaining now sitting abandoned in the middle of the road and the sidewalk.

When he had enough, he turned around to see Isabel lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. They hadn't had much time to reflect on what they had witnessed over the course of the day, but Stanley wasn't going to let it catch up to him until they were safely out of the city. Isabel couldn't shut it all out, and seemed to be facing it all now. A lone tear could be spotted trickling down the side of her face as she whispered 'Nadia' to herself.

Stanley figured she needed to be on her own for a while so he returned to the window and shut his eyes. The disturbing image of Isabel's lifelong friend with blood-coated teeth and glowing eyes appeared straight-away, chomping down on the doctors in the hospital. His eyes reopened at once and he shivered. Why had she had turned into something like that, when just minutes ago she was on their side?

If Lane knew something, which Stanley suspected, he wanted to know everything he knew. He just didn't know if Lane would spill.

***

It was now 6:04 p.m. The chopper was meant to arrive any minute now, but Stanley was nervous about whether he'd be allowed onboard. Lane hadn't been seen since his berating over an hour ago, but he knew he'd be coming soon to escort them to the helipad.

"Are you alright?" he asked Isabel.

"Yeah," she said, wiping another tear from her eye. Stanley knew she was lying, but he didn't want to pressure her.

"Okay, come on, we'd better find Lane. There's supposed to be a helicopter coming."

She nodded and slid off the couch, not bothering to question him about the chopper. Stanley limped to the door, his leg still in pain. He had taken painkillers from the first aid kit earlier, and it made the pain tolerable. The shrieks outside had grown a little quieter, but he figured they were slowly giving up and moving on. He was so used to their shrieks that the hallway was rather quiet by comparison.

"He's probably still downstairs," said Stanley, and he led her towards the stairs. He didn't have access to the elevators, but it didn't matter. Lane had suddenly jogged out of the stairwell, looking quite exhausted.

"What's wrong?" asked Isabel worriedly.

"Nothing," he said, out of breath. I just came upstairs to check if the helicopter had come yet."

The twitch on his mouth when he lied started again and Stanley stared at him. He looked pretty damn uncomfortable at being stared at, which was strange because he was always ready to give a more ferocious stare back. Something was wrong, especially since there were echoes coming from the stairwell.

"Are you sure?"

Before Lane could nod to confirm, he was grabbed from behind by one of the monsters. His eyes widened in surprise as the man dug his teeth into his shoulder blade. Isabel screamed as Stanley ran for his brother, crashing into the other man. He was sent toppling into the stairwell, knocking over the parade behind him like bowling pins. Lane scowled in pain as he collapsed against the wall. Isabel dashed for him as Stanley slammed the door shut and barring it closed. There was a nearby bench and coffee table which Stanley dragged in front of the door. Pounding against the reinforced door ensued as he knelt beside his brother.

Blood spilt profusely onto his shirt. He hissed as Stanley examined the wound, accidentally scraping it with his fingers.

"Go get the first aid kit," ordered Stanley, trying to put pressure on the gash. Isabel nodded frantically and tore off towards the employee lounge.

"How the hell did they get in!? Didn't you hear them coming up the stairs behind you?"

Lane didn't respond. He was too busy staring in horror at the bite mark to listen to Stanley's questions.

Isabel returned with the kit gripped in her hand, but Lane was shaking his head. His horrified look was replaced with defeat. "Don't bother."

"What are you talking about?" asked Stanley, panicking as he continued to bleed. "It's just a bite wound, you'll make it."

He sneered before howling in pain as Isabel applied disinfectant to the wound. "You don't know a thing about these guys, don't you?"

Stanley was confused. "What do you mean? What do you know?"

Lane coughed, hesitating to explain the situation. It obviously had to do with the company.

"Come on," urged Stanley. "Tell us what the hell is going on out there Lane."

Lane moaned in pain before finally speaking.

"It was Morton," he said, struggling to get into a more comfortable position. Stanley registered the name, but he couldn't remember where he knew it from. Isabel however, immediately recognized the name and gasped. "He – he screwed up again last night with his project in the labs; ended up killing some of his own employees. That's why he was let go. The project was supposed to be some sort of enhancement drug for the military – increase their senses and dexterity to make them more efficient. It was Yoshida's ace-in-the-hole in the defense industry, but it all went wrong."

Memories of the people sniffing the air back at Nadia's apartment complex to hunt him and their insane agility suddenly flooded to the front of his mind.

Lane continued, talking quickly as though his time was running out. "Anyway, it ended up corrupting the heart or something because the drug mixed badly with the bloodstream. It killed whoever took it in, but then they'd somehow come back to life. Even though their heart had shut down, something brought 'em back, and they started killing anyone in sight by eating them. That's what the eggheads at the lab said anyway. I didn't believe them, until you told me about that news report this morning."

Stanley wasn't sure he understood what he was saying. These people were dead? But they were running around like animals, sprinting and tackling people down with ease before trying to eat them alive. Surely they were just cannibalistic psychopaths.

Lane took one more look at his vicious injury and closed his eyes. "Anyway, once you're bitten …"

He began dozing off into shock, but was kept conscious by Stanley's constant shaking of his shoulder. "What happens when you're bitten? Tell me!"

Lane panted, almost laughing at his brother's stupidity. "You should know. You've seen it happen already, haven't you?"

Stanley realized what he was referring to. Nadia had been bitten on the leg and it was only moments later she gained the same aggressive behavior. The man in the elevator had an injury on his neck also. Could it be …?

"You mean if you're bitten –"

"—you almost certainly become one of them."

Stanley could hear them struggling behind the doorway as Isabel crouched by Lane. "How the hell does that work!?"

"How should I know!? I don't know the specifics; I work the office, not the labs."

"What do you mean by 'almost certainly become them'?" asked Isabel, getting upset about what Lane was saying. She didn't want to leave him behind, and neither did Stanley, but if what he said was right – they needed to distance themselves from him right now.

"Forget it," he said, sounding like he had given up. "Just go, the helicopter's waiting for you both."

Stanley was skeptical. Lane seemed eager for them to leave and head up to the helipad, but Stanley was smarter than that. He didn't know Lane for his noble sacrifices. He was a jealous and selfish bastard. He wasn't sure if he would become noble even if he was facing death. But his story did seem to be the best explanation for what was happening out there, despite several glaring holes.

"Dead, but alive?" thought Stanley. "Whatever."

"GO!"

Both of them jumped in fright at his sudden shout, which seemed to encourage the infected behind the doors to hammer against it stronger. They weren't going to break through anytime soon though.

"No, I'm not leaving you," said Isabel, sobbing by Lane's side.

Lane gave a weak smile. "It's okay sweetheart," he said, caressing her face one last time. He turned his attention to Stanley and he stared at him darkly. "I'm sure Stanley will take care of you. Don't worry about me. Just go."

The pounding grew louder, and Stanley held her shoulders, slowly pulling her back. "Come on. We need to go. It's not safe."

She broke down on his shoulder as they went to find another staircase not filled with those infected freaks that Lane seemed to know a lot about. Comforting her, he glanced back at Lane to give him a look of sympathy, but something else happened. He thought he saw a sinister grin widen on Lane's face before he rounded the corner. Stanley couldn't help but feel that something was very wrong.

* * *

_**6:12 p.m. – Helipad, Rooftop  
Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ**_

The darkness began overrunning the sky with only small traces of sunlight left as they both climbed to the top of the building. The distinct rotors from the helicopter echoed with the shadows of the two security men glowing in the dusk. One of them approached the two while the other boarded. His nametag read "Mick".

He raised his hand in a stop gesture. "I'm sorry Mr. Parfetti, but we can't let you onboard."

Stanley and Isabel both halted in their tracks. "Miss Perez, your boyfriend asked me to ensure that you got out of the city safely."

He reached out to escort her to the helicopter but she shrugged off his grip. "No. What do you mean Stanley's not allowed onboard?" Stanley could tell that she didn't want to have to leave another person she cared about behind. She was in enough pain abandoning Lane like that.

"Lane said so. He has business to complete here before he can leave the city, but he will be escorting Stanley out himself."

"Lane is downstairs," said Stanley, confused. Didn't his brother say that the helicopter was waiting for **both **of them? "He's been bitten, and I'm guessing you know what that means."

Mick looked shocked to hear this news, but he stood his ground. "I'm afraid I still cannot let you on the helicopter. I'm just following orders Stan. Miss Perez, Isabel, please, we need to leave."

His grip was firm this time as he struggled to take her towards the chopper.

"Let me go," she cried. She resisted but he refused to let go. Ultimately, she kicked him in the groin. He collapsed to the ground, grunting in pain as she retreated to Stanley. Before Isabel could speak her objection or Mick vent his anger, the inhuman cries blasted out of the stairwell behind Stanley. Both Stanley and Isabel turned to look as Mick, looking terrified, made a dash for the helicopter.

He climbed aboard. "Take her out of here!" he yelled over the whirring rotors.

The pilot complied without a second thought, slowly lifting the helicopter off the helipad and high into the sky. That left Stanley and Isabel petrified at the sight of a bunch of infected racing out of the stairwell.

"Run!" yelled Stanley, pushing Isabel forward as the horde glanced around frantically, looking for their next feast. There were two more sets of stairs to the rooftop, one of which wasn't very far. This allowed them to escape somewhat easily, even with Stanley's limp from his leg injury from the accident. He barred the door from inside, preventing access to and fro the helipad. He had no idea how they had gotten up to the rooftop in the first place. He was pretty sure his barricade would've held for longer.

* * *

_**6:25 p.m. – Twentieth Floor  
Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ**_

Stanley led Isabel down the stairs back towards the twentieth floor. Being the secondary staircase to the helipad; that was as far as the stairs would take them. The door was shut, but Stanley was nervous about going through. He opened the door and took a peek. The hallway was clear, for now at least.

"Let's go," he whispered, pulling the door open fully. Isabel nodded, putting all her emotions on hold as they both snuck out into the corridor. The closest primary staircase was halfway across the floor, which would hopefully lead them to the lobby with little encounters. They weren't expecting to come across any infected people at all, since most chased them up to the helipad, but anything was possible.

"We have to see if Lane's okay," said Isabel in a soft voice. Stanley turned and looked at her. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but deep down, he had to find his older brother. It didn't matter how unlikely it was he was still alive or how much Lane had despised him; he was still family.

But that meant returning to the eleventh floor.

"Okay," said Stanley after his hesitation. "We'll find him, but we need to be careful. There might be more of them."

Treading through the lush hallways, he got a fright when the automatic lighting suddenly came on to compensate for the dying sunlight. He wiped the sweat of anxiety off his forehead and pressed on. The staircase was void of any life. They trotted down the stairs, the cold metallic noises echoing under their feet.

The landing for the eleventh floor was in sight, with the door tightly shut. Cautiously, Stanley pushed it open a little and did some more scouting through the tiny gap. No one there. He led her through the doorway out into the hallway.

The stairs where they had left him were on the opposite end of the floor. Stanley felt the need to rush through the corridors, find Lane and get the hell out of the building with the two of them, but he knew he had to be careful. If what Lane had said about these guys were true, then they were extremely dangerous. One bite, and it was all over.

"What's that noise?" asked Isabel as they approached a junction. Stanley paused, hearing a shuffling noise around the left corner. One of them had been left behind in the chase for the helipad, and he wandered by the elevators. The stench radiating from him was almost unbearable.

"There's one of them," said Stanley quietly, trying not to inhale as he watched him groan, sniffing the air. His ears wiggled by themselves in an attempt to listen. Stanley forgot about their enhanced senses and froze when he began turning in his direction. He stumbled as he tried to get out of sight, but he heard a snarl. Too late.

"Go!"

Isabel ran down the corridor at Stanley's command, glancing over her shoulder while he limped as quickly as he could after her. He looked behind him. The man pursuing had a look of frenzy on the little pieces of his face he had left, gaining on him. Stanley struggled to speed up, but he was getting closer by the second.

"Look out!"

Stanley's eyes returned to what was in front of him and saw a fire extinguisher hurled in his direction. He ducked just in time and heard the extinguisher clatter on the ground, landing before the man. The man chasing however, was so focused on catching Stanley that he tripped over the cylindrical device, sending him sprawling to the ground. He struggled to stand up as they lost him by running through the several cubicles in the main work area.

At last, they reached the stairwell where they last left Lane, but all that remained was a small bloody patch on the ground where they left him and the empty first aid kit. Stanley looked surprised as he saw the stairwell he had blocked was wide open. The bench and coffee table seemed to have been shifted aside and the door wasn't forced open – it was disbarred, unlocked. More growls echoed from the lower floors. They weren't going down that way. More were on their way. They should've stuck with the other stairs.

Something else was on Stanley's mind. If Lane wasn't here, that had to mean …

He didn't want to think about it. There were more important things to worry about, but it was the most likely thing to have happened. He shook off the thought and focused on their current dilemma. There was no way he was going to get through all of those infected with his leg still in pain from the accident and the man that pursued them earlier was still somewhere on the same floor. He needed to rest, at least for a little while. "We need to hide."

"There – there was some office we ran past just before," said Isabel, overwrought by Lane's disappearance. She seemed to have come to the same conclusion as her speech was broken. "We can hide there."

He was skeptical about her suggestion, but they were coming fast, and they both needed to at least hide for a few minutes. Take in all they had learned thus far as well as the disappearance of his brother. "Okay, show me."

Isabel led the way to the office nearby another conference room. Right now, their lives were endangered and they couldn't afford any mistakes. They needed to stay focused.

* * *

_**6:32 p.m. – Sean Morton's Office, Eleventh Floor  
Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ**_

The office was completely different to the cubicle style ones they ran past just before. It was away from the main workplace and felt isolated. It was very spacious, with a couch lined against the wall with some framed pictures and a mahogany desk housing an expensive computer. All this was accompanied by the large window at the back of the room overlooking all of the glowing skyscrapers neighboring and the chaos on the streets.

Stanley closed the door and pushed the leather couch in front of the door as well as a filing cabinet in order to block anyone from coming inside. Isabel rested her head against the window pane, choking on tears as Stanley took a seat by the computer. She couldn't handle much of what they had gone through today, but it was perfectly normal to have such erratic behavior in such a crisis. Stanley was starting to become frightened of himself because he wasn't doing any of these things at all.

A screensaver glowed back at him on the computer showing the company's logo. He nudged the mouse and it reverted back to the desktop where he was surprised to see a picture of Isabel with Lane at the beach as the wallpaper.

Stanley didn't alert Isabel to his discovery. Instead, he hit the start button and saw that he was logged in under Lane's account. It seemed Lane had forgotten to log out when he last used the computer, but this wasn't his office. Lane's office was up on floor sixteen. Hastily, he pulled out the drawers, searching for any clue whose office they were actually in. That was when he found a small company business card with a picture of a serious elderly man. Underneath his thumbnail image was his name. "Sean Morton."

It was the name that Lane had mentioned just before they left him behind. Knowing Isabel knew the man, he showed her the card. "Who's this guy again? I've seen him somewhere before."

She picked the card from his hand, looking with her watery eyes. She was rapidly shutting down. After a moment, she spoke. "That's Mr. Morton, the man you told me was on the news this morning. He's the one that killed those people. The one that Lane said started all this."

Stanley flinched as he suddenly remembered who he was. So they were in the office of the man responsible for all of this? That meant there was bound to be some files on the computer to do with the so-called project he was working on.

Something else however, grabbed his attention. There was a window minimized on the task bar. Stanley restored it and discovered it was Lane's job application and personal data. It was under the Human Resources directory on the company network. He wondered why Lane would have his job application open during such a time and better yet, why he was working out of Morton's office. As he thought about these things, he saw a notepad lying on the desk. The ink embedded on the paper was fresh.

"_AB Negative,_" he read aloud, examining the words. It was in Lane's handwriting. His gaze returned to Lane's personal data on the application form and wasn't surprised to see that his blood type was, in fact, AB Negative.

Stanley shivered at this discovery, wondering if it had anything to do with Lane's suspicious behavior and that last disturbing smile. But before he could investigate further, power to the computer was suddenly cut off as well as the power for the overhead lighting. Stanley turned to look out the window and saw Isabel looking also, looking scared.

The whole city began to black out, leaving it lit now only by the ominous moonlight._**  
**_


	8. Feeling Vertigo

**Chapter Eight**

_**6:37 p.m. – Sean Morton's Office  
Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ**_

Stanley stared as the metropolitan area sequentially lost all electricity. Isabel let out a small sob as the last little light in the distance flickered off. Stanley took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the haunting darkness before turning to the computer. He completely forgot it would have died in the blackout, and cursed under his breath. The only possible 'clue' he had now that related to what was happening was Lane's little note saying '_AB Negative'_. He scooped it off the desk and crumpled it in his hand. What did it mean?

With the computer out, he wouldn't know, possibly ever what it could mean. He shoved the note in his pocket. He didn't know why, but he wanted to have at least a part of the puzzle, no matter how small.

"How long are we going to stay here?" asked Isabel quietly, still curled like a ball next to the window.

He thought about this, massaging his leg wound. It did feel a little better, but it still stung a bit. He looked at the furniture he piled in front of the door. They had no more business in a building that was crawling with those creeps. "We're not. We're leaving, now."

Isabel stood up, alarmed at what he said. She watched him walk to the barricade, tearing it apart and pulling all the furniture aside.

"They're still out there though, aren't they?" she asked, helping him shift the couch away.

Stanley didn't answer. He didn't need to. Pulling away another filing cabinet, a sudden smack against the door jolted them. They had found them.

"Quick, put it all back!" he urged, throwing the filing cabinet in his hands back in front of the door. Isabel pushed the couch back just as the door budged open. The face of a demented woman suddenly poked through, thrashing about as Stanley crushed her head with the door. Isabel helped him push the door closed, but the pounding against it continued. The door sounded weak, and crunching noises slowly started. Stanley rested against the door, looking at the massive window at the back of the room. He hesitated for a moment, before approaching it.

"What now?" asked Isabel, turning to see him open the window. A gentle breeze fluttered his hooded sweater and Lane's spilt blood shone under the moonlight. He stared down at the black chasm, unable to see the street eleven floors down. "What are you doing? You can't go out there!"

He ignored her and closed his eyes, setting his foot outside. His eyes tightly shut; he tried to find the ledge with his foot. Eventually planting his foot on it, he opened his eyes and saw the darkness below.

"Ahh, shit," he muttered to himself, retracting his foot back inside. He wasn't a big fan of heights, and even though the darkness below ironically eased him, he was still uneasy about being on a ledge eleven floors up.

"Stanley, don't," said Isabel, holding him back by his shoulder. The banging behind them was growing louder. "Don't do it."

She was just as scared of the prospect of going out on that ledge. He brushed her hand off his shoulder and looked outside. The next window wasn't so far away, and he guessed it was the neighboring office.

"Damn it Stan, get on that ledge," he muttered to himself, and he put his foot out there one more time. This time, his other foot followed, and he found himself fully out on that ledge. He didn't like forcing himself doing what he didn't want to do, but he really didn't have a choice.

"Be careful!" said Isabel worriedly as she came up to the window, watching Stanley holding his head up to prevent him from looking down. The crunching noises on the door finally increased to splintering ones, as they broke through the wood. She looked between both the breaking door and the window frantically before deciding to follow Stanley out on the ledge. She took it slow, despite the invading horde. She made sure her foot was firm on the ledge before bringing her other. She hugged the wall tightly, her fingers clenching it. The door eventually gave way, allowing the horde burst through and clamber over the furniture towards her.

"Move!" she screamed, shuffling over to get out of their reach. Stanley inched across, giving Isabel just enough room to avoid the grasp of the demented woman behind her. In her rush to grab Isabel, she recklessly fell out of the window, screaming as she tumbled into the dark abyss.

"Oh my god," said Isabel, watching her fall as she maintained her tight grip, hoping not to follow her down. Two others however, did follow the woman's fate trying to grab Isabel, even though she was quite a distance away from the window now. Stanley had the impression that these infected people weren't exactly bright.

The window that Stanley had spotted before climbing on the window drew nearer with every shuffle. It took him a while to reach it, preferring to take his time rather than rush. When he reached it, he realized how close the office was to Morton's. There was no point in entering another place where they could get cornered. He sighed as he moved along past it.

The two reached the next window, which peered into the end of a hallway rather than an office. A small red glint of light at the opposite end of the darkness marked the stairwell where they needed to get to. It was another one that was closed. It didn't look like there were any inside, so Stanley got to work. The window wouldn't open from the outside. That left only breaking in. He turned to Isabel, who was mumbling words of prayer to God not to let her fall down into the abyss before preparing himself. From his awkward position, he raised his arm and smashed his elbow against the glass. It barely made a crack from the lack of force. Frustrated, he smacked against it again. A little more damage.

He kept on banging against it, his elbow feeling sorer before he finally penetrated through. Bits of glass fell from the frame onto the floor inside. Knowing they might've heard the commotion, Stanley hurried inside. Isabel moved to the window and she clambered inside with Stanley's help, panting to get all her anxiety out of her system.

"Okay," whispered Stanley. "The stairs are just over there." He pointed. "We need to run as fast as we can before they can catch us. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"All right."

He poked his head around the corner and saw four of them looking in his direction. Snarls ensued as they sprinted towards their position.

"Go!"

Stanley gave Isabel a boost by giving her a push before following after her. Their snarls grew to shrieks and yells while Isabel skidded past the stairwell in her rush. She turned back and slipped inside. Stanley hobbled over to the door, his leg feeling a little numb but he managed to get in before they caught up. Isabel slammed the door behind him and barred them from getting in.

"Are you okay?" she asked, watching him slide against the wall, panting.

Stanley turned his attention to the door, but he knew they wouldn't get in, no matter how much they battered against it. He nodded as he caught his breath. "C'mon, let's get the hell out of here."

Isabel gave no objection as she led the way down the stairs.

* * *

_**6:53 p.m. – The Lobby  
Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ**_

Stanley approached the lobby door, pressing his ear against it, trying to listen for any signs of people on the other side. When he heard nothing, he inched the door open to confirm with his eyes, but found it blocked. He pushed harder, and heard a scrape against the tiled lobby floor. He squirmed his head through the gap he made from pushing the door and saw the obstruction. A bench lay in front, which was what made opening the door so hard. Someone obviously didn't want anyone coming out of that stairwell in a hurry. Irritated, he pushed the door open all of the way and studied the lobby. It bathed in the light radiating from the full moon above.

"Stay close to me," said Stanley, waving Isabel through the door. She snuck out past the bench, Stanley shutting the door behind them. The floor was filled with corpses. There were at least fifteen, and they were all still on the ground. They both avoided looking down at the bodies and stepped over any they encountered. The stench was unbearable, and Isabel gagged before Stanley held her close as they traversed the lobby. Someone had obviously been through here when they had entered the building. Whoever it was, they were long gone. Could it have been the same person that blocked the stairs?

He heard a low noise in the distance as well as several groans outside on the street. When they got near the other set of stairs, he found that the door for it was not only shut, but locked tight. There was another bench wedged against it like the other. The work of the same person, but there was one more thing that was bothering him. When he had entered the lobby, he expected the glass entrance to be shattered, and pieces of glass lying strewn on the floor. But he found something much more intriguing. The doors were wide open, and the card reader still had a pulsing green light. He pondered what this meant.

"Does that mean someone let them in?" he whispered to himself.

But in his thoughts, he barely heard the loud shriek behind. Both of them turned around and saw a man come from the reception desk. Isabel had no time to react as he leapt on top of her, pinning her to the ground. She screamed.

"Get off her!" roared Stanley, attempting to kick him aside but his strike failed. The man snatched his foot, dragging him to the floor, giving Isabel a chance to crawl away. The man turned his attention to Stanley, who tried to hold him back. He inched closer. Stanley's attempt to hold off the man wasn't going well as he felt a sudden sharp pain on his arm, making him recoil. The man had a look of ferocity on his face, and his breath smothered Stanley like a pillow. Just when he couldn't bear the stink any longer, he heard a disturbing whack. The man yelped, standing upright for a second before collapsing onto Stanley. Above him stood Isabel wielding a computer keyboard from the reception desk, glowing in the moonlight.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly, throwing aside the keyboard and helping him shove aside the man and get up.

He wiped the blood on his sweater, but the pain on his left arm made him cringe. He couldn't see the extent of the damage, but it felt very painful. "Yeah I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, but her gaze was on the man lying motionless on the ground. It looked like she had dented his head, probably damaging his brain. The horrified look on her face was noticeable in the moonlight, and Stanley felt it would be better to take her away from the man she quite possibly just killed.

"Okay then, let's keep moving."

The street wasn't as populated as it looked before the blackout. They were scattered around, minding their own business. Stanley used this opportunity to try and get into a car left deserted on the sidewalk near the entrance. He hadn't known though, that there were no keys to be found inside.

"Damn it," he whispered, trying to preserve their hidden presence. "We need to get out of here quickly and find some place safe."

"The subway," Isabel whispered back. She pointed at a set of stairs leading underground opposite the road. "Lane –"she broke off for a couple of seconds. "He um, he took it to work once when his car was in the shop."

A lump developed in Stanley's throat at the mention of his name. He still didn't know where his older brother had gone, but now wasn't the time for mourning. "Okay. Okay, we'll go there."

They scurried across the road, maintaining their low profile. The way down was completely dark, and Stanley was nervous about venturing into the unknown. For all he knew there were people down there, willing to attack.

"Quick, before they see us," urged Isabel, giving Stanley a gentle push. He shoved aside his doubts and made his way down into the dark.

* * *

_**7:04 p.m. – Subway Station  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

It never got brighter, forcing Stanley to hold onto the railing for his life. He kept his injured arm cradled in the other, making his descent a little harder. Isabel's heavy breathing rubbed against the back of his neck, and the stench of homeless beggars who made the station their home filled their noses. Now that the usually busy station was empty, it felt very ghostly.

Nearly missing a stair, he cursed, trying to regain his footing. That was when he noticed a small beam of light being emitted in some sort of security booth to their right. Wary not to slip anymore, he completed his descent and went to investigate.

"Stanley wait," hissed Isabel. Realizing his carelessness rushing forward into an unknown room, he froze. He heard her footsteps behind him as he scanned his surroundings. He didn't want a repeat of the lobby, with his arm now throbbing. It was strangely comforting to not hear any sounds whatsoever from inside the room or anywhere in the station for that matter. He pressed his face gently against the window to check inside. Almost as soon as he laid his eyes on two mutilated corpses inside, he whipped around, gagging. Isabel came to the window and had the exact same reaction, only more audible. He wasn't sure he would've made it past the lobby back at the Yoshida building if they were all as well-lit as these guys.

When Stanley regained his stature, he peeked inside again. The light source turned out to be a flashlight in the grip of one of the bodies. Stanley knew it would be an invaluable asset traversing through the dark city and walked towards the door.

"Be careful," said Isabel softly, watching him nod as he stepped inside. He held his breath to avoid the smell from their bodies and reached for the flashlight. He bit his lip, aware that the man holding the flashlight may wake up at any moment. Nothing happened, and his fingers wrapped around the tool with ease. Bringing it up to his chest, he shined the flashlight at them. They both had a few holes in their chest, but they also had one single hole in their foreheads. It appeared to be their killing blows, and they looked like bullet wounds.

Isabel tapped on the window quietly and he recognized his cue to get out of the room. He clicked the door shut and led the way to one of the pillars supporting the subway ceiling. The sting in his arm was beginning to affect him harshly, forcing him to slump against the pillar. He made a hissing noise as he waved the flashlight over his arm wound to see why it was so painful. That was when he heard a gasp from Isabel in front as his eyes narrowed on the wound.

Fresh red teeth marks shone underneath the beam.


	9. Underground Railroad

**Chapter Nine**

_**7:10 p.m. – Subway Station  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

"Maybe – maybe it's not so bad," said Isabel, pacing anxiously. Stanley was still on the ground, unable to take his eyes off the teeth marks embedded on his forearm. "Remember Lane said you _almost _certainly become one of them? Maybe you won't, maybe you'll be okay."

Stanley thought about this. Right now, he felt in control and didn't feel like attacking Isabel at all. But then he considered how it might take a while for him to be affected by the so called _virus_.

"Look, you can't be around me," he warned, finally standing up. "What if I **do** turn into one of them, just like Lane said? What happens then? I – I might hurt you."

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. He was upset over himself. Lane had warned him about how dangerous they were, and yet he still wound up getting himself infected. What was going to happen to Isabel if he didn't make it? He didn't want to think about it.

"Don't say that," she said, sniffing. Stanley couldn't share her optimism. It was true, they had no idea what to expect, and for all he knew, Lane had been bluffing. But he had seen enough evidence to know that Lane was right about the bite theory. She repeated herself. "Don't say that."

Stanley looked at her empathetically. She had lost one of her closest friends in the hospital, her boyfriend in the Yoshida building, and now there was the likely possibility that another close friend – and her confidant – would be lost.

"Come here," he said, holding his arms out. He welcomed her into his arms and she sobbed on his shoulder. "I'll stay with you for a while, but if I feel anything or change – even a little – I want you to run away as quickly as you can, understand?"

He felt her nod on his shoulder. He leaned backward to study her face, holding her shoulders. She looked distraught, but he gave her a warm smile. He gestured his head towards the tracks. "C'mon, we better keep moving."

He pulled his sleeves down again and hopped down on the graveled track. Flashlight in hand, he turned around to help Isabel get down, and led the way. There were no dodgy noises in the distance, but they remained cautious. The pain in his arm was fading, but Stanley wasn't convinced that it was a good thing.

* * *

_**7:23 p.m. – Portigon Subway Tracks  
New Barkham**_

They had been wandering for about ten minutes, but they predictably hadn't encountered anyone yet. He didn't think anyone would consider walking the subway tracks to get around. In fact, he was willing to bet that anyone not infected were in hiding already, and not staggering through the city.

Neither spoke as Stanley kept the flashlight on the ground in front of them. That was when he saw some sort of obstruction ahead, taking up the width of the tunnel. Something shifted behind what seemed to be a train.

"Hello?" called Isabel, spotting the movement as well. "Who's there?"

Stanley made a hushing noise as he gripped his arm. The bite was starting to sting a little again, and he felt himself become a little dozy. It took him almost two seconds to register that someone had appeared in front of them, pointing a gun at his head.

"Don't you fucking move." The voice was deep and gruff, definitely male.

Stanley and Isabel both froze. The silhouette emerged from the shadows with what seemed to be a pistol aimed at them.

Isabel stifled a squeal as the gun's barrel drew closer to Stanley's face. "Please don't shoot us. We're not one of them."

The man didn't yield. Instead he stepped forward into the flashlight's beam, revealing a youthful looking man with a short goatee. He wore a bloodied rent-a-cop's uniform, torn in more places than one. His arms were riddled with cuts. Stanley could feel his grilling eyes, scrutinizing both him and Isabel, searching for any sign of infection.

"Where've you come from?" he asked suspiciously.

"We just came from the Yoshida building," panted Stanley, grasping his arm. It started to tingle a little. "We're just looking for a place to hide."

The man made a thoughtful noise before gesturing towards the carriage. "How do I know you you're not one of them? There're two others in there, and I'm not about to let some of those freaks eat us all for dinner. "

Stanley thought for a minute. Surely the guy wasn't **that **dense. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to point out the obvious. "Well, if we were one of them, our jaws would barely be fixed onto our faces. In fact, we would have probably pounced on you the minute we saw you and ripped your throat out.

The man took this into consideration, as he let the pistol fall slightly. Stanley knew he wasn't going to pull the trigger after his blatant explanation.

"Okay – okay." He holstered his gun after a few moments, sighing. Stanley relaxed as the man offered his hand. "The name's Claude. Sorry 'bout that. Y'know you can't be too careful now that everyone's lost it up there."

Stanley took his hand and shook it. "I understand. I'm Stanley and this is Isabel."

"I see," said Claude, shaking Isabel's hand also, although she was still feeling anxious about the encounter. "So you two a couple or something?"

They looked at each other, blushing a little, but neither spoke. Claude seemed to understand. "Right, brother and sister then, my bad."

Stanley felt compelled to interrupt and correct him by saying they were in fact close friends, but Claude droned on. "Well, you two better get some rest on the train. You guys really look like hell. I've been keeping watch out here in case anyone comes through. Hopefully more normal people like you will come by instead of those loonies."

"Yeah, hopefully."

Claude led them to the carriage and helped them both in, occasionally checking behind him in case someone – or something – snuck up them. The inside of the carriage was completely dark save for another flashlight's beam. There were two silhouettes of people. One fat looking person was slouched against the wall in the far end and a slimmer figure was lying on the seats.

"Sit down," said Isabel, directing Stanley to one of the seats. He collapsed on it.

"I shouldn't be here," he whispered. "I'm putting these people in danger. They have no idea –"

"No," she said. "You'll be fine, okay? I'm right here with you."

He laid his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. He knew Lane had said you'd 'almost certainly' turn if you were bitten. That had to mean he could beat the infection – but how? The computers at Yoshida were now offline, but there was still one place he could gather the information. Lane was definitely right. He was going to change unless he did something.

But would it be worth it to pursue this piece of information? It'd be risky, but he didn't have any other choice.

"There's still one thing I can do."

Isabel didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

He rose from the seat despite Isabel trying to push him back. "Morton's house – on Casper Island, near your house. I need to get there. There might be something there that can – argh – help."

His heart gave an abnormal spike as he spoke, forcing him to grab it before he fell back into his seat.

"No – no, you can't go. Look at you; you're in no conditi—."

"Are you okay?" Someone had loomed towards them.

Stanley and Isabel turned their attention to the slim figure that had approached them while they were talking. She wore a paramedic's uniform with a bag slung over her shoulder, presumably medical supplies.

"Sorry, I – I didn't mean to interrupt. My name is Elisa. You looked hurt, so I thought I'd come and check you out."

Stanley stared at her, miffed by her interruption. "It's alright."

Elisa gave Isabel a friendly smile before she drew nearer to Stanley. She turned back to Isabel. "Do you mind if I take a look err…"

"Stanley. My name is Stanley. This is Isabel."

Isabel gave Stanley a stumped look but he nodded. "Go ahead."

He rolled up his sleeves and showed her the teeth marks on his forearm. She took Stanley's flashlight and inspected the wound closer.

"Ouch," she exclaimed, seeing the state of it. Stanley looked also, and discovered it had grown worse.

Elisa rummaged through her bag, retrieving a roll of bandages and a bottle of liquid. She handed them over. "Here."

"Thanks," he said, taking them both. In the small amount of light, the word **disinfectant** shone from the label on the bottle. He unscrewed the lid and braced himself for the imminent pain. The liquid fell onto the bite mark and his skin burned. He suppressed his hisses of pain as he thrashed about in the seat. Isabel placed her hand on his shoulder to help relieve him. When the pain died down, he began to wrap the bandages around both his bite wound and the one from the car accident. Blood was absorbed from the bandage bound around the bite.

"That should keep that injury from being infected, for now anyway," said Elisa, smiling as she took back the disinfectant.

"Yeah…" said Stanley disbelievingly. "It should."

* * *

_**7:40 p.m. – Subway Carriage  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley remained in his seat, plotting his attempt to reach Morton's house despite the city streets crawling with the infected. He turned to look at Isabel who was getting her wounds from the accident treated properly by Elisa. She kept her eye on him but when she struck a conversation with Elisa; Stanley got up and walked towards the other figure on the carriage. He was surprised that the man's snores did not alert any of the infected topside to their presence underground.

The man was sort of chubby and wore a t-shirt with cargo pants. His own flashlight rose up and down on his chest in sync with his breathing. Stanley mused that he was just enjoying his Sunday off from work when the outbreak occurred. He shifted in his sleep, revealing a handgun beside him. Stanley pondered for a moment as he scooped up the gun. It felt cold in his hands. Using the flashlight to inspect the firearm closer, he stumbled backward when he heard the man murmur in his sleep. He was definitely having a nightmare.

Stanley didn't have a clue as to how to use it, but he guessed that all he had to do was point and pull. Hopefully the gun was already configured to do so. He stowed the gun in the back of his jeans and crept back to Isabel, who lay on the seats in exhaustion.

"What were you doing?" she asked wearily, stretching.

Stanley made sure the gun was tucked away before getting closer. "Nothing, I was just looking around. How're you holding up?"

She sighed as sat up, resting her head against the wall. "I just need some time to – process what's happened today, that's all."

Stanley understood as he gathered the courage to tell her he was about to leave. He hadn't planned on taking her with him on his journey to Morton's house in the first place. It was too dangerous for her. He knew she wouldn't like it, but he had to tell her now. Every second he spent cooped up inside the train; the closer he was to becoming one of _them_.

"Listen," he began, fidgeting his fingers. "I'm heading to Casper Island now."

Isabel opened her mouth to speak but Stanley pressed on. "I want you to stay here with these people okay?" he said, his left hand brushing over the gun to ensure it was still there. "It's too dangerous for you to come, and I want you safe."

"You can't go," Isabel protested as he finished. She rose as Elisa turned her attention to the argument. "You won't get far on your own. It's a disaster up there! Let me help."

"I know, but I have to –" he said, before something his heart gave a small jerk. His vision started blurring in and out of focus as he struggled to stand upright. After a few seconds, he shrugged it off and continued. "I have to go and find a cure, or something to stop _this_." He showed her the bite marks, which had grown much more menacing in appearance. The disinfectant didn't seem to have done any good. "I don't want you in any danger."

Isabel gazed at the wound before looking into his eyes, her own welling with tears. She knew she couldn't convince him to stay, so instead she wrapped her arms around him. They stood for a few minutes, Isabel keeping Stanley warm in her embrace before he'd head out onto the city streets. That was all before she gave a small peck on his cheek. Stanley's jaw dropped in surprise as she let go.

"Be careful okay?"

He smiled, but reddened. "I'll be –"

But he stopped midsentence as his vision faltered. His heart struggled to keep beating as he clutched it in pain. He sank to his knees, gasping for air.

"What's wrong!?" asked Isabel, hurrying to catch him, but she missed as he fell onto the floor, eyes shut, groaning.

"Move," said Elisa, who had been watching the entire time. She gently pushed Isabel out of the way as she knelt beside him. She did a quick mental assessment before placing one hand on top of the other on his chest, administering CPR. Isabel watched apprehensively.

"C'mon Stan!" she whimpered. His body thudded with each press, but his eyes remained shut. "Please … don't leave me."


	10. Losing Humanity

**Chapter Ten**

_**7:50 p.m. – Subway Carriage  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Isabel covered her eyes but continued watching through the cracks between her fingers. Elisa didn't give up as she continued giving Stanley chest compressions to revive him.

"Come on," she urged as his body jerked with every press.

Isabel turned around, feeling hopeless when she saw Claude hop aboard the train. "What the hell is going on?"

He discovered Stanley lying on the ground with Elisa desperately trying to save his life. He shoved Isabel aside to get a better look at what was going on. "What happened to him?"

Isabel was too upset to explain as Elisa kept on pressing. He had been out for a minute now.

"Wake up damn it!" she yelled. She kept going, desperate to save him – but he gave no response.

Elisa shook her head at Claude and Isabel. Isabel buried her face into her hands and sobbed. Elisa watched her for a moment before finally gaining the courage to apologize. "I'm sorry."

But that was when Stanley finally gave a loud cough.

His gasp for air made Isabel give a cry of relief as she knelt beside him. She caressed his face, recognizing that he still retained his normal appearance. The army of the infected hadn't claimed him just yet.

"Stanley can you hear me?" asked Elisa, examining to see if he really was okay. "Do you know where you are?"

He was dazed as he looked at his surroundings. He realized that he was still on the subway carriage in the tunnels. "Ugh, yeah, I – I think so."

Isabel embraced him while he was still on the ground. "My God, I was so worried you –"

"It's alright," he mumbled, cutting her off before she said anything more. He didn't want to spook the others about his possible fate. He struggled to rise from the ground, groaning from pain. He still felt a little dizzy, but his heart was pumping again. The infection in his blood must've already started to affect his heart's ability. There was no telling when he'd collapse again.

"You'd better get some sleep," advised Elisa, helping him to a row of seats. "I'll monitor your condition while you get some rest to recuperate."

"She's right," said Isabel. "Don't go all the way over to Casper Island Stan – you won't make it. At least rest for a little while."

He panted as he took a seat. There was no way he was going to sleep in his condition. There was no time.

"What do you mean?" asked Elisa, hearing Isabel. "Casper Island was cordoned off around one o'clock this afternoon. That's where this whole thing started right?"

"Yeah, they said on the news that they blocked it off this afternoon," said Claude, watching Stanley sit restlessly on the seats while Isabel sat next to him. That was when he thought he realized what Stanley may have been planning. "You're not thinking of going over there are you?"

Stanley looked up at him, unhappy with all these objections being thrown at him. He quickly thought up an excuse other than 'I'm infected, and I need to try and find a cure.'

"I have to go and get something from – my house."

He knew it was a feeble one, but his brain wasn't exactly working efficiently.

"Haha – you're crazy dude!"

They all turned to see the man who had been snoozing before approach them. The same one that Stanley had stolen his gun from. It was only when he started talking that Stanley realized he was talking to a college kid.

He ignored him. "I don't care what you think. I need to get there." He turned to Isabel. "And I want _you _to stay with these people until I get back."

The college boy snorted as though Stanley had just said something funny. "Yeah, _**if **_you get back."

Stanley shot the man a glare, and he instantly recoiled in fear. He jabbed his finger in the air and pointed directly at Stanley. "Holy shit! Guys -- He's one of them!"

"Listen dipstick," said Stanley, nerved by what he said. "I've had enough of your stupid comments. Why don't you go back and have your little nap while the adults talk business."

Isabel glared at Stanley, unaware that he was capable of such behavior. The infection seemed to be altering his mind a little. Maybe he was right. He did need to find something before he got out of control and became like those people outside.

The young adult turned to Claude, his finger still trembling as it pointed at Stanley's face. "Did you see this guy's eyes? They flashed red for like a second. Did you see 'em? I swear they did!"

Stanley took Isabel aside, ignoring his accusations as he winced in pain from a headache. "Listen, I'm going to leave now. These people will take care of you okay? I'll come back as soon as I can. I promise."

Isabel grimaced but nodded to show her understanding. Stanley gave her one last smile before heading to the back of the train, where he would exit and go to the next station – alone. Claude, Elisa and the kid continued to argue as he brushed past them. Stanley's figure seemed to repel the teenager away from him.

"Phil will you please just shut up?" said Claude. "If he was one of them, he'd have tried to kill us by now."

"He seemed fine to me, but he did collapse before. Who knows what his condition is," said Elisa. "Maybe it's a good thing he's leaving. Isabel is definitely alright though."

"Fuck that," said Phil the college boy, going to pursue Stanley, who had already disappeared deep into the dark tunnels. "I'm going to blow him away right –"

Phil halted, patting the back of his pants. "My gun! The fucker took my gun!"

Isabel's sudden anxiety over Phil's attempt to go kill Stanley subsided quickly. "You shouldn't be holding one at your age anyway," she said coldly.

She lay down on a row of seats. Elisa smirked at her coldness and sat opposite her.

"Just get some sleep kid," said Claude, shaking his head. Claude hopped back in front of the train to resume his guard duty, leaving Phil standing bitterly by himself.

* * *

The crunching of gravel beneath Stanley's shoes kept him on his toes as he continued through the dark tunnels. He had been travelling for about twenty minutes, and the next station still didn't seem all that close. The constant dripping of water unnerved him, but he was sure there was no one else around. He stood by his theory earlier in which everyone was either one of them or in hiding. If what Lane had said earlier was true, the entire city was cordoned off – and considering there were only two roads out of the city, a shipyard and an airport, it wouldn't be too hard to police them. Escape from the city was probably impossible now.

Thinking about the quarantine, Lane swam to the front of his mind again. His brother had disappeared, and Stanley wasn't so sure that he had succumbed to being one of them. He still couldn't shake that one last sinister grin he gave him before he took Isabel up onto the helipad. And it was a trick anyway. Lane told him he'd be allowed onboard, and it turned out he wasn't. Something wasn't right. All he had to go on was the note in his pocket saying _AB Negative_ clearly written in Lane's handwriting.

He almost stumbled over the track when his head became light again, forcing him to lean against the wall for support. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep conscious before something happened, but he knew he needed to press on. Every second counted now.

* * *

_**8:48 p.m. – Subway Station  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley finally saw an open space ahead in contrast to the cramped tunnels he had been travelling through. He had finally reached the next station. He could see the dark pillars on the subway platform and another train stuck in the tunnels ahead. He pulled himself up onto the platform and waved the flashlight around. The beam shone over a sign saying _**Weller Bridge Station**_. This was it. Surprisingly there were no infected here, but the station was pitch black due to the citywide blackout. The flashlight gripped in his hand was his only guide through the darkness.

A quiet noise to his right prompted him to quickly glance to the side, but he saw nothing. Stanley breathed as he pressed on cautiously. He was crept out by the ambience, and he didn't want to stay in the station any longer than he had to. The only things making him hesitate were the screams and howls above ground.

Looking back in the tunnel, he knew he couldn't go back now. He approached the stairs and began his ascent.

He could see the faint moonlight at the top of the stairs, but took his time in case there were heaps of them topside. His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the surface and spotted almost twenty of them shambling in the distance, all navigating through the multiple cars strewn all over the road.

They didn't seem to be paying much attention to him despite his close proximity to them. He didn't know why, but he wasn't going to stick around and find out. To the left was the bridge glowing in orange instead of the bright blue lights on the suspensions that usually lit the bridge. The blockade that had been set up earlier was on fire, with one humvee overturned and in a ball of flames. He ran to the bridge and saw a lot of corpses lying scattered across the road.

"Oh my god," he said, seeing the bodies. Some of them were definitely infected but others had no signs of injuries or bites. They looked like they had been killed in the explosion. They were the ones that wore military fatigues and had their rifles alongside them. Despite the urge to snatch one up off the ground, Stanley had no idea how to fire one of them, and would probably be pathetic at using it. At least he was confident about wielding the pistol tucked behind him. There was nobody in sight along the bridge, which was going to make it easy for him to cross into Casper Island. But there was still the journey to Morton's home.

* * *

_**8:59 p.m. – Weller Bridge  
Casper Island, New Barkham**_

Arriving on the island, there seemed to be hundreds of them, but for some odd reason, they weren't interested in chasing after him. Perhaps it was because they could sense the virus coursing through his veins, but he didn't want to risk wandering through the crowd. Instead, he quickly approached a house nearby, shoved the flashlight into his pocket and clambered over the tall fence into the yard.

The lawn wasn't pretty with weeds sprouting out everywhere, but there was an entrance to the house by the patio. To the left was a garden shed with its door slightly ajar. Stanley peeked inside and saw several tools, including watering cans, clippers and a shovel. His eyes landed on the shovel, which was the biggest thing in there and approached the entrance. Without thinking, he smashed through the pane. The pieces clattered onto the ground and Stanley climbed through. He was in a living area; with the average furniture and flat screen TV sitting nicely in the room. He always wondered why he never decided to buy a property on Casper Island, but he felt he enjoyed living alone in the city more.

He knew he had no business in some stranger's house, and whoever owned it wasn't going to take too kindly to his breaking and entering, but he needed something to soothe his aching head. He wrenched open the fridge and found plenty of bottled water on the shelves inside.

"Who is this guy? An athlete?" he mumbled, spotting loads of vegetables and salads next to the several bottled waters.

He ripped off the lid and began to gulp the water down, feeling a little revitalized. Once he finished it down to one third, he left the bottle on the table and proceeded into the hallway adjacent to the living room to look for some sort of aspirin. At the far end he could make out some sort of vehicle in a large room. The garage.

"Good," he whispered to himself. But before heading there, he made a quick stop by a bathroom. A medicine cabinet was latched to the wall above the sink, where Stanley suspected would be some sort of medication for his migraine. He pulled it open and spotted several pills and toothpaste tubes. Inspecting each one, he eventually found some aspirin hidden behind a toothpaste carton. Retrieving a pill, he shoved it down his throat and drank running water from the tap to keep it there.

He grabbed a facecloth and began to wipe the water off the side of his mouth before looking at himself in the mirror.

That was when he almost fell backwards into the bathtub.

Even though it was quite dark, he could've sworn he saw his eyes glow scarlet for just a second, just like Phil had described back on the subway carriage. He clutched his heart as stress and anxiety revived the migraine in his head. He was coming close to becoming one of them. He couldn't waste anymore time in this house. Morton's home wasn't too far away by car.

He ran into the garage and peered inside the car, where he saw the keys dangling from the ignition. He silently cheered as he hopped into the driver's seat. Stanley pulled down the visor and pressed the garage remote attached to it. The door behind him rumbled as it rose, revealing six infected people standing on the driveway. It seemed that they finally realized that there was someone to feast upon. Stanley switched to reverse and began to accelerate backwards when his heart gave another spike, nearly causing him to veer off the driveway and into the fence. He retained his control of the car as he crushed two of the howling zombies. The car swerved onto the road. Stanley switched to first gear and ploughed through more people that were roaming on the street and drove on towards Morton's home.

* * *

_**9:12 p.m. – Wilthrow Avenue  
Casper Island, New Barkham**_

The only thing that came out of the speakers from the radio was static, except for one station, where someone was broadcasting a message. Stanley turned up the radio to listen.

" -- anyone can hear this message, we're at the Barkham Rock Radio building downtown in Portigon. Please come here as soon as you can. There are three of us here, and we need help. I repeat --"

The female repeated her message over and over, but Stanley was forced to turn down the radio. There weren't that many zombies in this part of the island, which was strange considering this was where the outbreak originated – according to Lane anyway. As Stanley came closer to Morton's house, he made a short stop opposite Lane and Isabel's house, located just around the corner from Morton's mansion. He stared at the house and sighed. It was hard to remember what normal life was like even though things had only been hectic for the past nine hours. He had been running, hiding and fighting in these nine hours more than he ever had in his life. The house retained its nice inviting look, although there was now a little bit of blood shining on the driveway underneath the moon.

He sighed and shook his head to try and forget about it. He drove around the corner, where something caught his eye. Someone in the distance had just exited the same mansion he had seen on the news report that morning with a backpack and approached an SUV parked nearby. Stanley drove closer to take a better look, but it caused the shadowy figure to freeze. It was too dark to make out who it was but the man or woman seemed to be uninfected. A looter perhaps?

Stanley rolled down the window and called out. He wanted to know what this person was doing inside Morton's home. "Hey!"

The person hastily threw the backpack into the backseat of their vehicle and got in. Stanley parked right behind them. He was about to get out when the car in front started up and backed straight into the front of Stanley's car. The force knocked the car backward as the airbag sprung out from the steering wheel. As Stanley struggled to get rid of the large cushion, he could hear the squealing tires of the car as it drove away.

Finally shoving the bag aside, he got out of the car and watched as the car turned a corner, out of sight.

"Who the hell…?"

* * *

**A/N** -- Well there's Chapter Ten. School's started up again so updates may take a while now. I started a poll which can be viewed on my profile page and it may determine where this story ends up going so please feel free to cast a vote. Thanks for reading so far. I enjoy writing this story for you guys.


	11. Morton's Estate

**Chapter Eleven**

_**9:16 p.m. – Sean Morton's Manor  
Casper Island, New Barkham**_

As the car sped away, all Stanley could hear was the gentle squeaking of a swing wavering in the wind from a swing set across the road. Crickets were chirping as Stanley suppressed his curiosity about the person he had just seen. He didn't have time to worry about them right now. He was going to turn any minute.

The shadow from a tall iron gate loomed over a pool of dark blood, staining Morton's driveway. The gate itself was chained shut and draped in police tape. Stanley let out a deep sigh before hoisting himself across the adjacent wall. He landed on the property, hearing the howls of the infected approaching the street. They must have heard the commotion earlier with the unknown car backing up onto his.

He shivered. As Stanley ascended the front steps of the porch, he found the front door partially ajar. A small breeze blew past him, and the door creaked open a little more, creepily inviting him inside. Stanley anxiously reached behind his belt, drawing a pistol and holding it in front. He struggled to keep his aim steady, unsure of how to use the gun properly.

The entrance hall had a high ceiling, but the large staircase in the center made the room feel claustrophobic. Stanley gently eased the door shut before progressing further into the manor. He did a quick survey of his surroundings before he was forced to grab the banister. Something had gotten stuck in his throat.

He fell onto his knees as his vision became hazy. He was on all fours, struggling to breathe. Eventually, he coughed out a large amount of blood onto the stairs. He pulled himself up, his heart blazing. He collected his breath for a few minutes to recover. It felt like something was drilling through his brain, yet he was still in control of himself, and that was what didn't make sense. He had been bitten nearly two hours ago. It only took Nadia less than an hour to change and the man in the elevator even less.

"_Forget the timing, worry about finding something that can help,_" he thought, pulling himself back together.

Stanley felt a strange draft through the house – the cold clashing against his flustered face. He was unsure whether or not the breeze was actually there, or if it was just a side effect from the infection. He kept his flashlight trained ahead as he climbed the stairs.

There was a hallway just to the left of the staircase on the second floor. Stanley breathed heavily as he crept through the hall, taking note of the multiple doors stemming from it. The lack of windows made the corridor pitch black except for the flashlight's beam. Although he kept the light in front, his eyes were fixed on the walls. There was several family portraits hanging from the walls, but what crept him out were the bloody handprints adorning the wall. One even covered the face of a handsome young boy who stood in front of Morton and a woman that was probably his wife. Stanley shook with fear. The sickening stench of the blood was filling his nose as he snuck through the corridor.

Eventually he came upon a door that was barely open. Stanley inched it open carefully to conceal his presence. He wasn't sure if anyone infected or not was still inside the house. He peeked through the gap, and was surprised to see that half the room was illuminated by the moonlight. There was a large balcony across the room where all the light was flooding in. It would have been a pretty sight if it wasn't for the disastrous mess he saw. The duvet was hanging from the bedposts. The drawers were all pulled open with clothes scattered across the floor. The wardrobe was wide open, and what seemed to be a recurring theme in the house; all of these had bloody handprints on them.

Anxiety sweeping over him, Stanley tried desperately to stay calm. His heart began to race. He stepped over a pile of clothes and slipped through the small gap between the ranch slider and the balcony. The manor held a perfect view of Portigon across the Weller River. Stanley's attention drifted to the mobs of zombies wandering the street below him.

He almost felt pity for them. Most of them had only been at the wrong place at the wrong time. They didn't deserve this kind of fate. What had Morton done? Most of the city was one of them now, including his brother. Was he about to join them?

Stanley backed inside with worry, struggling to see where he was going. He ended up tripping over a drawer sitting on the floor.

"Shit," he said, getting back on his feet. He dusted himself off before something caught his eye.

There was a box sitting on the bedside table. The lid was already raised, with a '_**caution**_' label slapped on the side of the package. Stanley waved the flashlight over the box, only to discover it was empty. Small grooves along the inside suggested it was used to hold something the size of a test tube. Stanley took a step backward, box in hand. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a loud crunching noise below him. Stanley jumped. Shining his torch downward, he found a shattered syringe underneath his foot. He took a closer look and concluded that its contents had been empty before he broke it.

Stanley swept it aside after his inspection. He assumed that the original virus was in that syringe and if he didn't know better, that was the same one that Morton had used on himself that morning. That explained the mess of a room he had, and the bloody handprints along the walls. The box was clear proof that there were more of them, but now they were gone.

With more pressing matters involving his own survival, Stanley dismissed the thought of searching for the missing vials. He left the master bedroom and re-entered the hallway. Making his way through, his eyes suddenly began to blur. Feeling disoriented, he could barely make out a few feet in front of him. On the brink of collapse, something jerked his attention back.

A phone was ringing down the hall.

Stanley did his best to shake off the haziness. He wasn't sure if the ringing was real or just a hallucination, but it was coming from a door at the far end of the corridor. He stumbled towards the doorway. He noticed small streams of light seeping past the cracks in the door, the rings echoing through. Stanley had no clue why the hell someone was making a phone call at this time of crisis, but he was about to find out.

The room was lit by a battery powered desk lamp, which for some reason had been left on. A cord phone sat underneath it, glowing as the ringing continued. Stanley wrapped his fingers around the phone, and lifted it off the hook. He raised it to his ear and waited for the caller to speak.

Nothing.

All that could be heard was the reverb static of his own breath. He decided to initiate the conversation.

"H – hello?"

The line was cut upon his voice, and Stanley was left with a dial tone. He stared at the phone for a while, his body tense. He set it down and pondered what this meant before he felt blood shooting up his throat again. He suppressed it, gripping the sides of the table to maintain his balance. In an effort to keep steady, Stanley inadvertently shook all the documents on the desk, revealing a mobile phone sitting with its LED light flashing. Stanley swiped it off the desk and flipped it open, discovering a message.

_One missed call._

Stanley hit the main button, and found out that a private number had called Morton's mobile. A special notification symbol displayed next to the description. The person had left a voicemail message. Stanley pressed another button, and the robotic voice of a woman spoke, speaking once syllable at a time.

_Message received; September 13__th__ 2009 at 1:47 a.m._

"Hey, it's Lane."

Stanley glared at the phone, recognizing his brother's voice. What was he doing calling Morton at one in the morning?

"I want you to listen. Don't you dare screw me now. You told me to pass this thing onto those guys from Europe, and now you're getting cold feet? Clarke's breathing down my neck to get those vials back from whoever smuggled them out of the labs. They're on to you, and that's why we need to transport them as soon as possible. I … I know you're feeling responsible for what happened to your research team, but killing yourself isn't the solution. We can disappear once we make the sale! I'll be sitting on a beach in Hawaii with my girlfriend and away from my brother while you can start up your own lab or whatever. C'mon we're both benefiting from this. We're being credited with the discovery right? Just work with me on this! Call me okay?"

_End of messages._

Stanley wasn't sure what to make of this. What had his brother gotten into? Lane may have been an arrogant S.O.B. but he was no crook. At least, Stanley thought he wasn't. Was this the kind of stuff he did behind his brother and Isabel's back?

He slowly set the phone aside and browsed through the documents that were on top of the phone. The words shimmered underneath the desk lamp, providing Stanley with information on what exactly was flowing through his veins.

"_Subjects were unable to adapt to the new toxins I had added to the mixture, and remained in their belligerent condition for several hours. They seem to have developed a predilection of human flesh for consumption rather than the standard meat we have provided – _What the hell does all this stuff even mean?"

Stanley waded through all the jargon noted within the pages and pages of documents. He felt a sudden ripple of frustration through his head, causing him to scrunch one of these papers and tear it apart. He could feel himself losing his composure, giving way to much more violent and erratic behaviors.

"_What's happening to me?" _He whispered, throwing aside the torn bits of paper. He slid another sheet of paper under the lamp and began to read again.

"_For the first time, someone has not succumbed to the aggressive behavior that was common with the other subjects, although some side effects still remain. I am unsure whether this has to do with the new chemicals I added, or because this subject has a blood type that I had yet to conduct tests on: __**AB Negative**_._ Test subject retains severe heart problems and frequent migraines, but otherwise gains the enhanced agility the drug was intended for. I am very excited, but I've entrusted my research team to test this new formula on the other patients, scheduled for September 12__th__. I trust they do not require my supervision."_

And written in a red marker next to the final sentence that Stanley recognised as Lane's handwriting: _Big mistake._

Stanley didn't take his eyes off the paper for a second after re-reading the passage. He slid his hand into his pocket and removed the small scrap of paper he had taken from Morton's office back at the Yoshida building. The one with Lane's handwriting on it. Raising the note to the light, he matched what was written: _AB Negative. _

Stanley was struck with realization. According to the employment form he had seen back at Yoshida, Lane had the AB Negative blood type. Did that mean Lane was effectively safe from turning into one of those monsters outside?

But then another, more curious question entered his mind. What was the chance that he shared the same blood type as his brother? Was it possible that Stanley could survive this infection also?

As he struggled to remember what blood type he was, there was a noise. It sounded like a firecracker going off down the street, although he was unsure of what was happening outside due to the bad angle of the room's window.

He jogged back the way he came towards the master bedroom. Careful not to trip this time, he crossed the room and returned to the balcony. He was stunned as he felt a strong wind blow past him from the direction of Portigon. His eyes were flooded with bright orange light. The entire downtown sector of Portigon was smothered in flames and debris. Stanley could barely discern the dark buildings through all the thick smoke. The echoes of the blasts lingered in his ears long after the actual explosions.

"Isabel…"

What the hell was he doing? There was nothing else here at Morton's home. He had to get back to Portigon. **Now**.


	12. Sprint Race

A/N - Sorry for the long wait, but I have been extremely busy at school, going on camps and things as part of my job as a lead student at school. Finally I got this chapter completed. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

_**9:29 p.m. – Sean Morton's Estate  
Casper Island, New Barkham**_

Stanley ran back into the study, the sight of the fireballs etched onto his eyes. His migraine had disappeared as his worry for Isabel's safety took over. He retrieved Morton's mobile phone with Lane's voicemail on it and made his way downstairs towards the front entrance.

Stanley wrenched back the curtains and spied outside. The car he had stolen was swamped with zombies, leaving no clear path to re-enter it.

"Damn it," he muttered. He stood for a minute, pondering what to do. He wasn't getting back to Portigon on foot. The car was his only option.

Unsure of what he was going to do, he stepped outside anyway. The lack of sunlight presented a cold atmosphere. The wind pierced the skin revealing from the small gaps in his jumper where there were scratches. Standing on the driveway, Stanley saw the zombies looking back, moaning hungrily. Some of them rattled the iron gate protecting the driveway. He needed a way to divert their attention. Looking to his left, a small clipped hedge wall divided the front yard from the side.

Stanley ran for it, vaulting over the hedge and landing onto the side yard. Looking behind, some of them ran down the road to follow. He needed to get back to Portigon quick in case of another attack. A rock wall separated Morton's property with its neighbor. Scaling it, Stanley saw the group around the car disperse a little, with the exception of some still nearby.

Hopping down, Stanley hid out of sight from the infected out on the road. His handgun was still tucked behind his back. It had buckled when he landed; reminding him it was still there. He retrieved it and aimed at the house. His shut his eyes as he squeezed the trigger, but nothing erupted from the barrel. Opening an eye, he saw the lever on the back of the gun in its upward position. Almost slapping himself on the forehead, he pressed it down and closed his eyes once more. He pulled the trigger three times in succession, each blast louder than the last.

There was an uproar in the street. Nearly all of the infected in the neighborhood were making their way to Stanley's location upon hearing the gunshots. He took a peek over the wall.

The car was clear.

He stayed low for a few more minutes, waiting for more to converge on the origin on the gunshots. Once he felt he had hidden for long enough, he hopped back over the wall and sprinted for the car. Looking to the road, Stanley realized he was in a race. He clambered back over the hedge and ran down the driveway. They were on a collision course, with Stanley barely ahead of them. He climbed over the iron gate and made a break for the car.

Stanley began to panic as they came closer. He patted himself down for the keys when his painful heart sank. They were nowhere to be found in his pockets. With them only a few feet away, Stanley had no choice but to get in, squeezing past the airbag that had been released before.

The zombies collided roughly into the car, desperate to reach him. Avoiding the windows, Stanley got rid of the airbag. That was when he spotted the car key hanging from the ignition, exactly where he left it after that mysterious car had backed into him twenty minutes before. Stanley whispered his words of thanks to god before starting the car. Several of them were on the bonnet, making it difficult to get out. They scowled as the car jerked forward a little, knocking them backward. Slamming his foot on the accelerator, the car surged forward, struggling to get past the mass of people blocking his way. Many were bowled over as he turned the car around. Completing the U-Turn, he sped for the Weller Bridge.

* * *

_**9:46 p.m. – Subway Entrance  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley crossed the bridge relatively easily, avoiding the destroyed roadblock he passed before and several wandering zombies. The glowing fire from the destroyed barricade was the only light source for miles thanks to the blackout. The subway entrance was just a few meters ahead. He felt a bit of nostalgia, remembering what it was like racing to the hospital for Nadia. Now it was a race to the subway to see if Isabel was safe.

He stopped the car opposite the subway entrance where there was a clear space away from any zombies. But he wasn't alone.

A mass of people barely lit by his headlights were approaching, all of whom seemed to be following one man. Stanley got out of the car to get a better look. From what he could tell, he was a soldier, who looked like he had gone through hell. Soot was smothering his face as his clothing looked singed from a fire. The stampede drew closer, forcing Stanley to go down into the subway before the soldier led them there.

He hopped down the stairs, hoping not to fall. He didn't have time to grab his flashlight in his back pocket. There was a flurry of footsteps behind him echoing in the station. Some of the pursuing zombies tumbled down the stairs due to their clumsiness. The soldier leaped down the rest of the stairs but ended up crashing into Stanley in the dark. Stanley let out a yelp as they were both sent sprawling onto the track.

Stanley felt the gravel scrape his skin as he struggled to get back up. The soldier was already on his feet, feeling threatened by whoever he had just knocked into. Before Stanley could say anything, he heard the man run down the tunnel – towards the other survivors.

"Stop!" called Stanley as he followed, although it wouldn't have been a good idea. The zombies had taken off after them. He couldn't allow the soldier to lead these guys back to the others. He pulled out Morton's mobile phone from his pocket, struggling to keep ahead of the rabid pack and to catch up with the wounded soldier. He hoped to warn Isabel about the incoming danger, but he was unable to get a signal in the tunnel.

"Damn it!" he yelled.

The pain in his leg from the car accident had almost vanished entirely, but Stanley barely noticed. All that was stopping him from surging forward was the painful migraine that had returned. The tunnel appeared to be spinning as he followed the soldier.

He pulled the pistol from the back of his jeans and gripped it in his hand. Half-turning, he squeezed the trigger midstride. His arm buckled violently from the recoil as the shockingly loud noise of the discharge echoed. He knew he had completely missed a target. Perhaps shooting while running, in the dark with no experience whatsoever wasn't the best idea. Deciding against firing another round, all he could do was keep running. The loud noise from the gunshot continued to ring in his ears. He was sure the silhouette of the soldier's head had turned to see who was firing, but he kept running when he realized Stanley was shooting the other way. The gap between the two parties had increased at least, which bought Stanley some time to warn the others.

* * *

_**10:02 p.m. – Subway Carriage  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

Stanley finally caught up to the soldier just before they reached the carriage where the other survivors were hiding.

"Hey! **Stop**! I'm not one of them!"

The man turned his head to see Stanley's figure in the tunnels. He pulled out his sidearm from his hip holster. Stanley slowed his advance to demonstrate his lack of hostility. However, for every step Stanley took forward, the soldier took another back.

"Stay where you are," he ordered. He was panting from the run, but he kept his cool.

"There's no time for this!" he pleaded. "There're people in there, and we've led those things straight to them!"

The soldier looked confused as he glanced quickly behind him at the subway carriage before returning his leer at Stanley, keeping his sidearm aimed. Their fanatical noises were growing louder in the tunnels as they began to catch up.

"Stanley?" cried a familiar voice. "Is that you? Are you back?"

Both Stanley and the man turned to see Isabel standing at the end of the carriage. Her look of relief was replaced with one of shock. She gasped at the sight of him being held at gunpoint by the new face. "What's going on!? Who are you?"

The man looked back at Stanley, who was trembling restlessly. Stanley figured they had about a minute before the zombies would close in. The man hesitated, but lowered his weapon, realizing he was dealing with civilians.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" said Stanley, dropping his hands as soon as he wasn't being aimed at. He didn't want to waste time hearing an apology from whoever this person was. "They'll be here any second."

Isabel looked frightened as Stanley nudged the soldier towards the carriage. The echoes of their snarls grew louder.

"Get the others and move!"

Isabel nodded and began shouting out everyone's names as the soldier approached him. He looked a little miserable, but Stanley could tell he wasn't trying to show it.

"Sorry about that."

Stanley merely shook his head. "Save it. We've gotta get everyone out of here."

He nodded before checking the amount of bullets in the magazine for his pistol. Waving his flashlight, Stanley could see the word "Hiller" embedded on the man's singed vest. The man was covered in cuts and bruises.

"Hiller is it?" asked Stanley.

The man looked back at Stanley before turning back to his gun. "Just Ethan."

Stanley spared him more questions about why he looked so upset. The dark figures of the zombies were finally visible.

"Well Ethan, it's time to go."

Isabel had already evacuated the subway train and started their journey to the other station. Stanley prepared to run again as Ethan struggled to regain his breath. They watched them climb aboard before he gave Ethan a push towards the end of the carriage. Stanley kept his flashlight ahead of him, doing a quick check of either side of the carriages he traversed through, ensuring no one had been left behind.

They reached the end of the train and spotted Phil the college kid with a gun that was presumably Claude's. He stood firmly on the track, aiming at the train.

"Kid, there's too many of them, get going," urged Ethan, hopping off the train. Phil ignored him, standing his ground. Stanley approached him, but halted when he felt the trail of a bullet whiz past his neck.

"Stay the hell away from me," he warned, shaking. Keeping the gun trained on Stanley, he was unaware of the three zombies on the train behind him.

"Watch out!" cried Stanley, pointing behind him. Phil kept the gun aimed as he turned his neck to see. Confirming Stanley's warning, he brought the gun around.

But he was too slow.

The leader of the pack pounced on him, dragging him down. Phil yelled. He struggled to shoot, but the constant chomping of the zombie prevented him from firing. Stanley looked on helplessly. More and more were piling up on Phil.

"We need to go!" said Ethan, tugging Stanley away from the pile-up. But Stanley was immobile, shocked from what he was seeing.

The ones kneeling beside Phil glanced up fiercely at the two of them. They picked themselves up and advanced towards Stanley and Ethan.

"Let's **GO!**"

Ethan grasped Stanley's wrist and hauled him down the tunnel alongside himself. The zombies not getting a piece of meat from Phil tore after them.

Reaching the station, Stanley watched Isabel scramble up onto the subway platform together with Elisa. Claude was leading them with his flashlight, wiping some sweat off his forehead.

Ethan looked exhausted. Stanley was surprised he even got this far with those injuries. He could hear his huffing as he heaved himself onto the platform. Stanley turned to help his fellow survivor onto his feet and led him towards the surface.

* * *

_**10:16 p.m. – Yoshida International Industries Corporate HQ  
Portigon, New Barkham**_

The defense contractor that Stanley and Isabel had barely made it out of a few hours ago loomed over the street under the moonlight. Isabel, Claude and Elisa had already crossed the road, attracting the attention of more zombies from both ends. Now their hunting party had grown.

"This way!" he heard Claude say. Stanley watched as they all ran down a ramp toward the parking garage. Isabel looked over her shoulder to see if Stanley was still running. Upon recognizing him, she waved frantically for him to hurry.

Stanley and Ethan both made their dash across the road; Ethan on his last breaths. The zombies from the tunnels had surfaced from the subway, and joined with the ones from the street. Stanley led the way down the ramp, almost tripping as both he and Ethan ducked under the shutter and entered the parking garage.

"Close the gate!" cried Elisa, pointing at the half-closed shutter.

Ethan skidded and ran back, trying to reach the shutter. The zombies sprinted towards them, Stanley watching anxiously. Ethan looked too fatigued to even jump, prompting Stanley to help. With the corrupt blood flowing through him, he felt agile enough to leap and grab hold of the shutter. The infected were only a few meters away now, and closing.

"Pull me down," said Stanley; hanging from the shutter a few feet off the ground. Both Ethan and Claude wrapped their arms around his legs and dragged him down. The shutter slid down also, crashing onto the ground.

The zombies smacked against the gate, shaking it but were ultimately unsuccessful at penetrating through as Claude secured it. Ethan collapsed onto the ground, wheezing from the run.

The zombies continued to batter against the gate as Claude spat back at them, breathing heavily. They had made it to another safe place, but how long could they stay where they were? Stanley didn't know as he fell next to Isabel, clutching his heart. The run had really taken its toll on it, and every beat caused him pain, especially since he was infected. But the second she cuddled him, it subsided.

"I was so worried you weren't gonna come back…" she whispered.

Stanley didn't reply. He simply welcomed the warmth of her closeness as he wondered what they were going to do now.


	13. The Outskirts

A/N -- I'm sorry this took so long. Firstly, school and my personal life have taken its toll on me, not giving me much time to write, and secondly, I really wanted to map out the rest of my story before I commenced writing this chapter. After several revisions, I think I've got it nailed down. Thank you for reading, and reviews are _really_ appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**10:22 p.m.**_

The zombies battered against the shutter underneath the pale moonlight, trying vainly to penetrate through. Their terrorizing cries made Isabel feel vulnerable. But with Stanley beside her, her safety seemed assured. There was a question that had been bothering her ever since she heard Stanley had returned to the train.

"Did you find anything? For – you know …"

Stanley glanced at her for a second before looking away, breathing heavily. He shook his head.

She embraced him, shaking. Feeling the warmth of her body, he was reminded about the report he read at Morton's. He could feel his forehead reddening, as he clutched his heart, sweating.

"Don't worry about me," he assured her, despite his symptoms. "I'll be fine."

She looked up, confused. "I thought – what?"

Stanley hesitated. "I read something at Morton's place. Something about how some blood types react positively to the pathogen that Morton made."

Isabel's ran her hand through her hair, anxious. "I don't understand." Then her eyes widened. "Does that mean – you'll be okay?"

Stanley stayed silent, feeling Isabel's eyes on him. He had no idea, but not wanting to let her down, he nodded. A small contagious smile grew quickly on her face, and Stanley couldn't help but smile back. But deep down he was scared.

"What's taking so long?"

Their moment was broken by the barking of Claude. Stanley looked to see him walk briskly to a family van where Ethan was working in the driver's seat.

"I know what I'm doing," Ethan said, fiddling with a ball of wires. "Just gimme a couple more minutes."

Claude let out a cold laugh, shaking a finger at the shutter. "Are you shitting me? Those… _things _are almost through that gate."

Ethan sat up straight, staring Claude in the eye. Even from the long distance, Stanley saw Ethan's jaw twitch. "Unless you can start this car, piss off and let me work this out."

Claude stood his ground, enduring Ethan's cold stare. After a few moments of silence, Claude sneered before wandering away, his arms raised in frustration. "You know, we were **safe **in those tunnels until you led them back there!"

Stanley caught Claude mumbling something about the military before returning to check on the shutter. He passed by Elisa on the way, who was keeling over against a pillar. Stanley drummed his fingers on his knee as he pondered what he was going to do.

"I'm gonna go check out the van," he said, slowly lifting Isabel off his shoulder. Her head rose as she watched him walk to Ethan. From what Stanley saw, Ethan didn't have much knowledge as to what he was doing, but there was a look of determination on his singed face. Stanley figured he was involved in the several explosions he witnessed from Morton's place.

"Are you alright? You look like hell."

Ethan stopped working again, looking at Stanley before looking in the side mirror. Seeing his face covered in soot, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Stanley nodded slowly. "Need a hand?"

Ethan grunted as he shorted another fuse. "No, I got it."

Getting the message, he opted to keep his mouth shut from then on. He wrenched open the side door and got inside before waving Isabel over. As she reached the van, the engine groaned as it came to life.

"I got it!" Ethan cried, as he closed the door. He waved at the others. "Let's go!"

Both Isabel and Stanley strapped in as Elisa broke from her fetal position. Both she and Claude dashed for the van, Elisa taking the last space at the back, leaving Claude with the front. Ethan sulked as Claude clambered in. He slammed the door and crossed his arms in a huff. Switching gear, Ethan drove forward to the shutter where they came in from.

"Wait," Stanley asked, "where are you going?"

"The exit?" Ethan snapped back, still pissed off.

Stanley looked at him quizzically. "I don't think we'll be able to just smash through that big crowd out there."

Dismissing Stanley, Ethan pressed harder on the accelerator. Outside, the zombies continued to pound at the gate, oblivious to the strengthening headlights.

"Hang on," said Ethan, continuing to accelerate the van. Everyone braced themselves for impact.

The van crashed into the shutter, ripping the entire metal barrier downward. The shutter toppled onto the mob as the van drove over top. Catching sight of living people within the van, the infected broke into a crazed frenzy, squirming to reach the vans inhabitants. Some let out a terrifying screech, before lunging at the van, trying to get in.

"Come on!" Ethan mumbled to himself as he attempted to maneuver through the mob of zombies. The sheer volume of infected slowed down the van to a near halt. The entire vehicle rocked from side to side as they attempted to break through the windows.

"Reverse!" cried Stanley, grabbing Ethan on the shoulder. He grumbled, switching gears. The tires squealed as they bumped back over the collapsed shutter, knocking down one or two zombies in the process. Everyone watched as they poured into the garage by the dozens, surrounding the van.

"Now what?" asked Isabel.

"Find another exit," said Stanley. "Now."

"Is there even another one?" said Ethan, bowling over two zombies as he drove forward. Everyone had a firm grip on something as Ethan continued to drive erratically through the parking garage.

"There should be," said Stanley, thinking back to his occupation as a draftsperson. "A parking lot of this size should have another exit onto a different street."

"If you say so."

The entire garage was pitch black, save for the van's headlights. Ethan struggled to steer the car through all the winding turns half-blind. Stanley looked out the rear window, making out the red glow of several infected from the backlights.

They drove onward, continuing to look for an exit as they moved up through the levels of the parking lot.

"There!" Claude called out, pointing at a ramp on their left. Ethan quickly swerved the van around the corner only to find that there was another shutter blocking their way. Ethan pressed harder on the gas.

"Hold on!"

The van crashed through the shutter and flew onto the street above. Ethan quickly turned, narrowly missing an abandoned car in the middle of the road, and continued down the main road. Stanley glanced back as the mob of zombies dispersed out of the garage, not quitting the hunt. He let out a long sigh of relief as the Yoshida building faded into the distance.

Ethan couldn't help but let out a little laugh as he sped down the road.

"Where are we going now?" asked Isabel.

"We blocked off the Crescent Dam and shut down the power from there," said Ethan. "I should be able to get you guys through the roadblock."

"And if you can't?" Her voice was shaking.

Ethan glanced at her before looking ahead, silent. "I don't know… haven't thought that far ahead yet."

* * *

Stanley checked his watch as they made their way across the bridge. It was 11:24 p.m. He felt exhausted, desiring nothing but to sleep, if only for a couple of minutes, but he needed to keep himself awake a little longer.

"Elisa," he said, turning around to speak with her, but he could hear the quiet sniffs and sobs from her. He regretted his move.

"Yes?" she asked, cleaning her eyes before returning a look.

Stanley gave her an encouraging smile. "Are you alright?"

She returned a sad chuckle. "Do I look alright?"

Stanley bit his lip as he drew back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

She wiped her tears, sniffing. "My friends are dead… my sister…"

Stanley felt his heart sink as Elisa mentioned the death of her sister. It brought back a painful memory, one that Stanley had managed to keep suppressed for nearly ten years. It was the one that tore apart his once strong relationship with his brother.

"I've lost everything – my home, my friends, everything."

Stanley struggled to find the right words. He understood what she was going through, but he was unsure of how to convey it.

"I – I know how you feel," he said, keeping his voice low. But Elisa shook her head, sneering. Avoiding Stanley's gaze, she looked out the window at the gloomy landscape. Stanley bowed his head as he contained his anger. His brother may not have been responsible for this, but he was conspiring to do it on a much larger scale. What the hell was wrong with him?

"I tried to save as many as I could Stanley," returning her leer to Stanley, who looked up at her again. "I tried."

He nodded, swallowing as Isabel looked at the both of them. "Me too."

Rainfall started. Amidst the low pattering of rain on the window, Stanley could hear a faint chopping noise outside. He rolled down a window and poked his head out to investigate. The noise was unmistakable.

"There's a helicopter outside." Stanley said.

"Do you think they've seen us?" asked Isabel. "Maybe they'll help us get out!"

Before Stanley could answer, the chopping of the helicopter was joined by a low whooshing noise. Stanley looked up to see two blurs flying overhead. Ethan seemed to register the noise.

"F-22s?" he said, taking a brief moment to look at the sky.

The helicopter continued to move farther from the van, and Stanley had a hard time making out what was happening. The barely distinguishable F-22s slowed down from their incredible speed and moved to either side of the chopper.

"What's going on?" asked Stanley, watching the situation unfold. It was too dark to make out any markings on the helicopter, but he guessed it may have been a personal or news chopper. He continued gazing at the two F22s as they simply maintained positions either side of the helicopter.

Stanley must have missed something because before he knew what was happening, the two F22s turned into blurs. Seconds later, Stanley fell backwards into his seat as an explosion boomed in the distance.

"What the hell was that?" asked Claude, breaking his sour position to see a fireball fall from the sky.

"Oh my god," said Isabel, gaping.

Ethan looked in the mirror silently; the passengers hushed as they watched the helicopter fall from the sky, splashing into the Weller River. Claude turned to Ethan for answers but he refused to look back.

* * *

"Okay we're getting close," said Ethan, focusing on the road ahead. They had been navigating through ghostly cars strewn across the open road for almost ten minutes. All of them were enduring the cold air and the icy raindrops coming through the broken front window.

"I'm cold," whispered Isabel, nestling against Stanley_. _"It's alright," Stanley whispered back, holding her close. "We're almost there."

As he wrapped his arm around her, he looked at his bite wound. As far as he could tell, he was still himself.

"Hopefully someone can check it out," he thought as he rubbed his hand on Isabel's arm to keep her warm.

Both sides of the road were thick with trees and foliage and Stanley was sure he saw a dirt road lead up to a hill. With the moon being the only source of light, Stanley decided that he would hate being stuck out here without any form of transportation.

Still focusing on the landscape, Stanley felt the van slow down. An African American soldier was holding his hand up for them to stop, causing the van to slow to a halt. They had reached the dam.

"Put your hands where I can see them." He ordered, unphased by the downpour of rain on his face. Everyone in the van slowly raised their hands. The soldier made a quick gesture, and two other soldiers stepped forward and raised their rifles to the ready. Stepping toward the car, he raised his flashlight slowly, first to Ethan's face and then to the others. Stanley noticed the soldier paying close attention to Ethan's insignia.

"Can you let us through, sir?" asked Ethan.

Looking sympathetic, the solder grabbed a radio transceiver from a pouch. "Command, come in."

After a few moments of static, a crackled reply came. "This is command."

"An army Corporal and several civilians have approached the roadblock," said the African American as he paced away from the van. "No sign of infections. How do you want me to proceed?"

The reply that came was drowned out by the static of the radio and the pattering of rain. Everyone was restless, anxiously awaiting his response.

"Copy that."

The soldier stood still for a moment, hesitating before putting the transceiver back into its pouch as he made his way back to the van's window.

"I'm sorry Corporal, but our orders come from DHS. No one within the quarantined zone is permitted to leave. I must ask you –"

"What do you mean!?"

"—to turn your vehicle around."

"Sir," Ethan objected. "I'm a Corporal of the United States Army. Why can't you let us pass?"

The soldier stood his ground. "Secretary Clarke has given us our orders."

Ethan scoffed. "You know what? Fuck orders, I'm going through."

In a flash, the soldier drew his sidearm, aiming directly at Ethan. "You will do no such thing. Corporal, you **will **be fired upon! Turn the vehicle around and leave immediately."

The squad of soldiers raised their rifles, each aimed at the van. Stanley watched Ethan's foot hovering above the accelerator; a look of determination etched upon his face.

"Turn around now Corporal, or we will open fire!"

Stanley's heart seized up. Not from the infection, but from anxiety. "Ethan, turn the car around. Now."

"Damn it," muttered Ethan. He turned to look at Stanley, whose gaze moved to the soldiers outside, their rifles trembling in their hands.

Everyone sat motionless and quiet, waiting for Ethan's decision.

"Okay!"

Stanley looked at Ethan, who raised his hands. "Okay – I'm turning around."

The soldiers maintained their stature, watching Ethan switch to reverse. The car rolled backwards, allowing Ethan to make a three point turn. The soldiers lowered their weapons. Stanley sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Looking in the side mirror, Ethan scowled, slamming his foot on the accelerator, following the road back to New Barkham.

"Shit!" cried Claude, smacking his hands against the window. "We were so close! You should've run straight through!"

"Shut up," said Ethan. "I'm trying to think."

"Why don't –"

"Didn't I say shut the hell up?!"

Everybody except Ethan looked out the rear window to see their gateway to safety drifting further away from their reach.


	14. Dwindling Band

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Monday, September 14****th**** 2009**

_**12:07 a.m. – Damuca County**_

Ethan's demeanor silenced everyone as he wove through the abandoned cars on the country road. His shoulders seemed relaxed but he maintained a look of fury as he stared straight ahead. No one was brave enough to ask what their new goal was but there was no way Stanley was going back to the city.

Unexpectedly, Ethan swerved the van off to the right. Isabel yelped and fell onto Stanley, who reacted just in time to stop her from falling forward. He would've smiled, but Claude's rant to Ethan about his plan killed the mood. Ethan glared back at him, neglecting to keep his eye on the bumpy road they were on. Everyone fell silent again, until the van suddenly lurched. A terrifying noise came from underneath, and the van fishtailed.

"Hold on!" cried Ethan over Elisa and Isabel's screams. He did his best to keep the van on the dirt track, but failed as the van slid into a deep trench, toppling it sideways.

Stanley could hear the crunch of the windows, the glass showering him. The impact had squeezed him like a bear hug until the van finally settled.

It was quiet.

He felt like he was in a limbo between his consciousnesses. His heart was pounding while his icy blood trickled down his forehead, but the constant tapping of the van from the rainfall kept him from going under.

"Stanley?" someone whispered. "Stanley?"

Stanley jerked his head around in a feeble nod, groaning. His eyes fluttered in a struggle to open them. A silhouette was on top of him, their cold hand slapping his face. His fingers burned in pain as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Noises of bumping could be heard on the opposite end of the seat that divided Stanley and Isabel from where Claude and Ethan were. Elisa's side was dead silent.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea – argh."

His heart gave another sudden spike. He may have been getting used to the pain, but it was still a startle every time it suddenly ached like that.

"Let's get out of here," he mumbled.

Isabel nodded and opened the door leading upwards, allowing the heavy rainfall to spray all over them. Her hands groped around outside, slipping constantly from the wet exterior. Stanley pushed her legs up before climbing out on his own. Hissing in pain, he made it out of the van before rolling off, smacking onto the muddy ground. He saw Claude crawl out through the shattered windscreen, a bit of skin above his eyebrow torn.

Stanley forced himself to stand, wobbling as he regained his balance. He took a quick headcount, and with Ethan and Elisa not in sight, he dashed for the back of the van first.

"Ethan'll be fine," thought Stanley, imagining the soldier heroically busting out of the car, cuts and bruises all over him. He kept his ears open, trying to listen through the splattering raindrops and chirping cicadas if any of the infected were coming.

"Argh, fuck!" yelled a voice. Just as Stanley figured, Ethan rolled out of the car and onto the mud, cradling one of his arms which appeared to be in severe pain.

"Stanley!" called Isabel. "I need help!"

Stanley slapped his hands on his jeans to clear the mud and jogged to Isabel. Elisa's eyes were open as she tried to climb out. Stanley offered his hand alongside Isabel's. Elisa clasped them both, and together, Isabel and Stanley heaved her out. Elisa ate mud as she fell face first into a pool of it.

"Are you okay?" asked Claude, coming from behind the van.

"I'm fine," said Elisa, spluttering. "Don't worry."

She picked herself up. Stanley glanced around, looking for Ethan, whom he had seen just moments ago.

"Ethan?" called Stanley, wiping the drops of water out of his eyes as he went to find the soldier. "Ethan!"

"Leave the son of a bitch," said Claude. "Look where he got us."

Stanley looked around for any signs of Ethan. Where the hell had he gone? Surely he'd have stayed nearby the wrecked van with them. "I'm gonna go look for him."

Claude snorted, dipping his hands into the muddied pockets of his guard uniform. "No. I don't think so; we need to stick together."

"We can't just leave him out there. He got us this far out of the city."

Claude shook his head. "Yeah, but not _through_ that roadblock like he promised. And now look where we are." He held his hands up to catch the falling rain as the trees rustled around them.

Stanley sighed, but the sounds of grunts nearby alerted him. "Did you hear that?"

Everyone took quick looks around them. Isabel spoke up first. "Hear what?"

"It came from over there," said Stanley, pointing. About to go investigate, Claude slapped his hand on his shoulder. "Wherever you're going, I'm coming with, got it?"

"Whatever," said Stanley, pointing where he heard the grunts. "Over there."

Claude brushed aside some bushes and moved forward, but Stanley turned to look at the women. "Just stay here. Yell if they come alright?"

They both nodded. Isabel whispered a soft "be careful" and Stanley gave her back a warm smile.

Stepping over some foliage, Stanley followed Claude, who was brushing aside several branches. "How many bullets you got?"

He unloaded the magazine and inspected it before slamming it back into the pistol. He gave a small grin. "Enough."

Stanley shook his head at his immature partner before catching a glimpse of a man sitting against a tree just ahead of them. "Ethan? Is that you?"

The man held a stick in his mouth like a dog with one hand clasped on his own shoulder. His grunts grew more violent as they neared. Claude raised his handgun before the man snapped his shoulder. The stick dropped from his mouth as he howled in pain.

Claude kept the gun trained on him as Stanley saw Ethan's face on closer inspection. He held his hand out to Claude before leaning towards Ethan. "What the hell were you trying to do?"

Ethan slumped against the tree, panting. "Fixing myself up."

Claude was confused. "So why the hell did you leave us beh—"

His lecture was interrupted by the shrill screams of the women. Claude cocked the gun before rushing back. "God damn it!"

Stanley moved to follow, leaving Ethan to pull himself up off the ground. Back at the crash site, Isabel and Elisa just clambered on top of the overturned van. Four figures were slapping the sides, trying to find a way to reach their prey.

Claude fired off a round at one of them reaching to grab Isabel. Elisa was like a ragdoll in her arms as Isabel was frantically fending off the undead with her feet. She kicked one of them, sending him sprawling towards Claude. He pulled the trigger once more, knocking him back. The man growled before Claude took aim and fired another shot at the man's head. A fountain of blood sprayed out of the gaping hole in his forehead as he crumpled to the ground.

Ethan made short work of the other two before Claude could even turn the gun towards them. As the last man splashed onto a puddle, Stanley raced towards Isabel.

"Are you okay?!" he said, scrambling on top of the wreckage to hug her.

She nodded as she cradled Elisa in her arms. "She needs help – she was bitten."

Stanley glanced down at her. A lesion on her shoulder glistened underneath the moonlight, blood oozing out.

"I need help!" shouted Stanley. "One of you! Help!"

Claude answered Stanley's cries, leaving Ethan to look at the dead corpse on the ground. "Elisa?"

He held his arms out as Stanley and Isabel lowered Elisa's motionless body to him. Gently, he laid her on the gravel road and looked for a pulse. He sighed in relief. "She's still alive, barely."

He took off his jacket and pressed it against the wound on her shoulder. Stanley could hear his heavy breathing over the downpour as Ethan jogged towards them. "She's not gonna make it, and we've gotta go. There're more coming and I'm running dry." He gestured towards his pistol before pointing down the dirt road.

"And where exactly are we gonna go?" asked Stanley, sliding off the van.

Ethan jingled a set of keys in front of his eyes. "Who knows what's at the top of this hill, but we need to go."

"Where'd you get those from?"

Ethan pointed at one of the dead men wearing overalls smothered in blood. His workers helmet hadn't fallen far away.

But Stanley couldn't help watching Claude's efforts to keep Elisa breathing.

"C'mon!"

Ethan was already a fair distance away from them, waving at them all to come. Stanley looked to Isabel, who moved the jacket beneath Elisa's head, cushioning it.

"Isabel let's go," whispered Stanley.

She stared at him, frowning. Her eyes darted between the man she once had feelings for, and another man struggling to keep another alive. But even Stanley had to suppress his desire to never leave anyone behind. Elisa had been infected after all, right?

But Stanley had his doubts. He was bitten too, and he didn't feel any different, apart from the migraines and the stabbing pains of his heart.

"I'm not going," she said.

Stanley dropped his hands in disappointment before turning back to Ethan. He had no idea what his next move was, but deep down, he knew he needed to survive. This selfish desire however, had coincided with his other desire for him to survive together with Isabel.

"Well, if you wanna come," said Ethan, turning his back on them. The distant rumblings of more infected coming their way were becoming more pronounced. "I'll be at the top. But you'd better decide _now_."

Stanley's breathing became heavier as he watched Ethan ascend the dirt track, supporting his recently relocated arm.

"Good!" yelled Claude, continuing his attempt to keep Elisa alive. "Get the hell outta here! We don't need you!"

Ethan didn't look back.

"Wait!" called Stanley. He returned one look at Isabel; a pleading one. From where he stood, he could see Isabel hesitating. "There's nothing we can do for her. She's infected."

"And how do you know?" asked Claude, turning his anger on Stanley.

Isabel looked down at Claude, her shoulders tense. She looked unsure and reluctant. A helpless look emanated from her face. Perhaps Stanley was right, but it still took all her effort to say "I'm so sorry Claude."

She ran towards Stanley, leaving Claude looking at them all with bitterness, his bloodied hands still cushioning Elisa's head. Ethan seemed to have watched them sort out who was going where, as he stood still, ignoring the rainfall irritating his face.

"Let's go," said Ethan, unmoved. Stanley swallowed at his lack of remorse before following him up the hill, Isabel in tow.

"Fucking cowards!" shouted Claude. "Go to hell!"

Stanley bit his lip as he followed Ethan in a trek up the hill. Isabel was the only one who looked back.

* * *

_**12:36 a.m. – Oil Field  
Damuca County**_

Stanley panted, clutching his heart. They had run the last couple of feet after hearing the stampede of infected making their way up the trail. Claude was nowhere to be seen, and Stanley assumed he went his own way, or he was dead. Either way, the group was down to three, and Stanley couldn't help but feel guilty about bringing this all to Elisa, Claude and even that pompous Phil kid.

"Hurry!" called Ethan, ahead of them. Isabel was ahead of Stanley, who was panting. His heart's condition seemed to worsen with physical exertion. They were catching up.

Sounds of machinery groaned as they finally reached flat ground. The rain had subsided, only dribbling small drops now as the moon finally regained its stature in the sky. With the minimal light and the monotonous sound of machinery, Stanley realized that they were in an oil field, with wells working despite the current situation.

"Over there!" Ethan shouted. Stanley's peeled his eyes away from the tall pumps and looked towards a small building of some sort across the field. Perhaps a foreman's office?

"C'mon Stanley!" cried Isabel, who slowed her pace to wait for him. His throat was drying up quickly, having had nothing to eat or drink all day long. He was running out of energy.

Ethan reached the door to the prefabricated office first, jamming the set of keys into the lock. The growls were unsettling, but Ethan kept his cool, switching out keys when one wouldn't work. He had no idea why the guy needed so many keys hooked onto the chain.

Isabel slammed against the prefab after running for her life, and Stanley arrived a minute later, wheezing. Behind them, a mob of about fifteen were racing across the field, some tripping over.

"Gotcha," said Ethan, smirking as the door clicked open. Hurriedly, he pushed it open and trudged inside, mud sliding off his boots onto the linoleum floor. Stanley nudged Isabel in before getting inside himself, and slamming the door behind him.

"Out of the way," said Ethan. It was a command. Stanley shifted sideways as Ethan slid a rather tall shelf in front of the doorway. "Pile up some stuff in front so it doesn't fall over."

Stanley nodded, but he was too exhausted to even put a chair in front. Luckily, Isabel got straight to work, grabbing a stool sitting by a desk and throwing it against the shelf. Ethan picked up a coffee table himself and pressed it as hard as he could against the barricade.

Breathless, Stanley fell against the wall. His head was throbbing and he found it hard to swallow any saliva left in his mouth. He barely registered the battering against the door, nor Isabel kneeling down next to him. She remained silent until Stanley finally looked her in the eye.

"Why did we –"

"Shit," said Ethan, slamming his fist on a desk. "Claude had all the other bullets. That leaves us with three."

Isabel ignored him, turning back to Stanley. "Why did we leave her there Stan?"

A frown grew on Stanley's face. He didn't want to think about it. "She was bitten, okay? There was nothing we could've done."

She shook her head, refusing to listen to his dismissal. "But that didn't stop the Stanley I know from helping them, no matter how hopeless it seemed."

Stanley sighed deeply. It was true. He had been selfish lately. Perhaps ever since she kissed him lightly on the cheek back on the subway carriage, he had thought of nothing but himself and her, together. He couldn't believe he was doing this to his brother, whom he had last seen with an evil grin back at the Yoshida building. No matter how much they disliked each other. Stanley wasn't sure it was _hate _just yet.

"And what about you?"

Stanley was rescued from drowning in his thoughts of guilt. "What about me?"

"You –" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "you've been bitten too."

He nodded slowly. "I know... but I also know that this thing isn't gonna affect me like everyone else. I won't turn into one of them."

"What if she was the same? Hmm?"

Stanley twitched his jaw. "You might be right, but think about it. If we were wrong, we'd probably be being eaten alive by her right now."

Isabel was taken aback by his rebuttal. "And what if that was me? What if **I** was the one that was bitten back there? Would you have left me there too?"

Stanley blinked his eyes and bowed his head, unable to produce a response.


	15. Swapping Stories

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Unknown Location/Time**_

_Stanley barely made it back home as the sun began to rise. He had walked all the way back to Casper Island from a club in the mainland after sneaking out hours before. His legs ached and his head was throbbing. He noticed his father's car missing from the driveway, and it was replaced with a police squad car. There was a sick feeling in his stomach. He called his father to pick him up a few hours ago, but the old man never showed, claiming he had to go pick up his sister Pam from the airport. Now there was a cop car outside his house?_

_Two men dressed in uniform stood in front of the entrance, conversing with someone. Stanley felt a little awkward, but with alcohol poisoning his brain, he simply waded through in between them. Lane was standing at the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of Stanley's drunken state._

"_Excuse me," said one of the officers._

_Lane saw the state of Stanley and apologized on his behalf before asking their business at their house._

"_It concerns a Ralph and Pamela Parfetti…" Stanley overheard as he climbed the stairs. He stopped dead in his tracks.

* * *

**5:18 a.m. – Foreman's Office  
Oil Field**_

Stanley jerked awake. The ruckus outside continued as Stanley massaged his aching head. His eyes struggled to adjust to the poor lighting of the office he was in. Isabel was opposite him, hugging her legs to keep herself warm while Ethan's face was buried underneath his arms on the desk.

A subtle feeling in his throat warned him of an imminent barrel of coughs and he covered his mouth with his elbow, spluttering. Blood clung onto his sleeve, and he hastily wiped it off. The infection inside of him was starting to take its toll and Stanley felt hungry. He had no desire for human flesh, but anything that was a meat would seem to satisfy him. The smell of the bloodied bodies outside was no longer faint, but strong. Fear began to flow through his veins alongside the infection. Was Morton's prediction wrong? Would he eventually turn into some slumbering vegetable looking for meat?

He groaned as he rose. The barricade was slipping back with the constant pounding against the door. His arms feeling frail, he found it hard to lodge the furniture back against the door.

But what was the point? They were trapped in this confined building in the middle of the countryside, unable to breach the perimeter the military had erected and were surrounded by flesh-hungry monstrosities. And to top it off, his brother seemed to have been involved in the scheme of things behind their backs and was seemingly killed back at the office. But Stanley still couldn't get that mischievous grin out of his head.

He looked to Isabel and heaved a giant sigh. Regrets were pouring into his head. His life hadn't gone the way he hoped it would have. The dream he had reminded him of that. His family, his blown chance with Isabel back in high school. Everything was spinning in his head, and now that he faced the prospect of dying, he realized he couldn't suppress his feelings anymore.

Stanley was removed from his daydream with the quiet hum of an R&B tune coming from nearby. He looked towards Isabel, where the song seemed to be coming from underneath her. He crept beside her and crouched. Biting his lip, his hand shook as he quietly retrieved a mobile phone hidden beneath her thighs.

The display flashed _unknown caller_ and the melody continued to play. Isabel moaned as the sound kept playing, causing Stanley to quickly answer to stop the noise.

"Hello?"

"Isa—" began a familiar voice, only to cut off. Stanley's eyes narrowed as the only sound he could hear now was muffled breathing.

"Who is this?"

No reply.

Stanley looked at both Isabel and Ethan, who were still sleeping soundly, and spoke in a harsh but hushed tone. "Who the hell are you, and how did you get this number?"

"It's me… Stan," the voice finally said.

Stanley's eyes widened as his heart began to pump faster. "Lane," he finally breathed. "You're still – alive?"

"Where is she?" asked Lane, ignoring his question. His voice shook with anxiety.

Stanley looked towards her, sleeping gracefully. But he wasn't about to let him know that. Not when he had _a lot_ to answer for.

"You son of a bitch," he hissed. "You worked with Morton… you were gonna release this virus!"

On the other end, Lane was taken aback by his brother's accusations. "What? Stanley, I work the office, not the lab –"

"You knew. You were gonna steal the virus off your own company and sell it to whoever was interested."

Lane gave a nervous laugh. "Stanley, listen to yourself. You're accusing me of robbing my own company when I've got a beautiful girlfriend that I was about to propose to, and a good job, and a good home. Who the hell would be interested in _this _anyway?"

Stanley sneered as he tried to hold back tears. "The black market? Terrorists? You tell me Lane."

"Yeah, I was gonna just wander around town holding a couple of vials and sell them to terrorists on street corners you fucking mook," said Lane, sarcasm spewing out of his mouth. "Wake up Stanley! What the hell's the matter with you?"

Stanley sniffed as things started to make more and more sense now that he put more pieces together in his head. He shuffled away from Isabel and huddled in a corner. "You let those things into the building back at Yoshida didn't you?"

Lane feigned confusion. "What?"

"_The doors_; the doors weren't shattered; they were wide open. You let them in, and then you told them not to let me onto that helicopter! You wanted me to get killed by those things and get away with Isabel!"

Stanley hadn't realized his hushed tone had grown to a loud, menacing one. Ethan seemed to have awoken from his slumber, his hand reaching for his holster while Isabel stirred.

"Stanley, will you shut the hell up, and put Isabel on the phone! I'm gonna come get her."

Stanley's body was trembling now. "No," he said defiantly.

"**Now**."

Anger welled up inside him, replacing the feeling of betrayal. "Don't worry," he said with a grin not unlike the one Lane had given him back at the office. "I'll take good care of her for you."

Stanley could hear Lane scoff on the other end. "She almost died today because of you. And if anything happens to her, that'll be another person you've taken from me. Remember Mom Stan? Oh wait; you've never even met her. How about Dad? And Pam? I'm sure you remember _them_."

"Fuck yourself."

Stanley slapped the phone shut and, resisting the urge to throw it at the wall, let it drop from his hands onto the floor. He was breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his forehead from the argument. He glanced over at Ethan, who mouthed "who was that?" with a puzzled look on his face.

Stanley swallowed before closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Nobody."

He collapsed into an armchair near Ethan, heaving another sigh. He could feel Ethan giving him some sort of evil stare that Stanley was innocently trying to avoid. When he couldn't bear it any longer, he confessed.

"It was my brother. He was just looking for Isabel."

Ethan crossed his arms. "You sounded pretty mad – you okay?"

Stanley clapped his hands on his lap and gave him a forced smile. "Everything's _fine _Ethan."

Ethan gave a snarl at Stanley's cheek, but pressed him no further. "Right. Well, I hope you're comfortable. I don't think we're getting out of this place anytime soon."

Silence dominated for a few minutes as Ethan's words sunk in. How were they gonna get out of this mess now? Possible solutions flowed into his head but he couldn't handle any more thinking. All it seemed to do was hurt his head.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked, resting his head as he looked at the ceiling. Ethan spun around in his chair, giving Stanley a peculiar look.

"Sorry, I, I just … need to take my mind off things." It wasn't entirely true. Not only did he not want to think about the conversation he just had or the hopelessness of their situation, but he wanted to know what having a normal family was like; now that the topic was so fresh in his mind.

Ethan gave a curt nod. "Well, I have a sister in San Francisco – and a niece."

Stanley broke his gaze into the ceiling and looked back at the soldier, who found a cigarette pack in one of the drawers despite the locale being an oil field. "Trish and – shit"

Stanley's eyebrow twitched at his sudden curse, but realized it was because he couldn't find a lighter, despite the brief look of horror on his face. "Trish and Sara." He spat the cigarette back onto the desk.

"Do you still talk to them?"

For the first time, Ethan gave a small smile. "Yeah. Every week, I'd give her a call. And every month we'd have a video chat. We were very close back when we were kids, and then I joined the National Guard. Heh, we used to prank my mother a lot."

As Ethan carried on, Stanley slowly became more fascinated by Ethan's relationship with his sister. He tried to imagine himself conversing with Pam these days. He remembered her to be the typical happy go lucky young adult, who was full of life and never had a frown on her face.

"How about you?"

Stanley came back to his senses as Ethan completed his recount of how things used to be when he and his sister were kids. "What?"

"What's the deal with your family?"

Stanley shuddered. He was worried that he was going to bring it up. "That's not a happy topic for me."

Ethan frowned and asked tactlessly, "What happened?"

A small whistle escaped Stanley's lips as he closed his eyes. He was going to shoot through his story. "My mother died giving birth to me. That left my dad, my brother and my sister. We did alright I guess until I was sixteen. I snuck out to a club with my friends, and when my dad was meant to pick my sister up from the airport, I told him to come get me too 'cause I was too drunk. He said he would – but he never showed."

He hesitated. The suppressed memory was starting to become too easy to visualize. "I had to walk all the way back home from the city. But by the time I got there, police had shown up and told my brother that dad was murdered in a carjacking and my sister, who was also in the car, was raped by the same man."

Ethan's jaw dropped slightly at Stanley's tale. "Oh," was all he could say.

"Yeah," said Stanley, beginning to get upset all over again. "Pam, my sister – we haven't spoken in almost ten years. She packed and left two weeks later to go overseas. She never told us where."

"I'm … sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his boots.

They both fell silent again. Ethan kept his gaze down while Stanley's wandered over to Isabel again. Lane's words were echoing in his head now. '_She almost died today because of you. And if anything happens to her, that'll be another person you've taken from me.'_ He gulped and covered his face with his hands.

"Please," he whispered, as though he was praying. "Please let us get through this. Don't let me lose her."

Then his heart gave another painful burst. His hand automatically clamped onto it as he hissed in pain. He slumped backwards in his seat, his teeth clenched.

"What's wrong?" asked Ethan, leaving his seat as though he was going to save him from sliding off onto the ground.

"It's – nothing," he said, his breathing pattern broken. The sudden bursts of pain were growing more agonizing, but less common. More painful memories were growing inside his head, particularly a more recent one. The pain from the loss of Elisa was more unbearable than the heartaches. How could they abandon her like that? How could _he _abandon her like that.

"How could we leave her there?" he murmured, settling down again. Ethan cast a look at him before dropping his gaze once more. Stanley wondered why he did this. Perhaps he didn't want to show his lack of sympathy.

"We had to. She'd have slowed us down."

Stanley glared at him, his mouth gaping. "That's it? Because she would've slowed us down. Not because –"

Before he revealed his own reason, he held his tongue. Ethan gave him his trademark look. "Because what?"

Stanley shook his head as he felt more disturbed by Ethan. At least Stanley had a good reason to leave her with Claude, lying in the mud. Or did he? He was bitten himself after all, and the symptoms kept popping up. He deserved to have been left behind as much as she did. He felt hypocritical now.

"No, no don't get me wrong, I try to help when I can," said Ethan, who seemed to read Stanley's expression. "Back in the city, I – I almost saved –" He shuddered and closed his eyes. "—this little girl."

Stanley looked at him incredulously. "What happened?"

"She – she was amongst the crowd of those infected people, and I managed to grab her during a big firefight my squad had, trying to get these civilians to an old extraction point we heard over comm. I grabbed her and we took cover inside a 7-11 when we heard the planes coming. They – they bombed our position; took out most of my squad mates and probably all of the civilians considering the APC was blown to hell."

He sighed. "I don't know who else might've survived; there was too much smoke. But the girl – she didn't make it when half the ceiling caved in."

He paused while Stanley surveyed him. For once, Ethan looked semi-upset. "They wouldn't stop coming, so I had to leave her there and get out the back way. I ran for about twenty minutes until I saw you peeling across the road in some beat up car."

Stanley didn't know what to say. He had to admit he was surprised that the military _were _doing their job. Not mindlessly killing everyone as he had seen in countless movies, working for the government to cover things up, but saving whatever lives they could. So why were they stopping people from getting out? Stanley shook his head. What a foolish question.

"That whole time I was with that girl, I thought I was holding Sara, my niece."

Although his story proved Ethan wasn't a monster, it still didn't ease Stanley's disgust at his leaving Elisa because she'd slow them down. "So why did we leave Elisa there then? Not because she'd have slowed us down…"

He grasped his forehead and shook it. He seemed confused himself. "I – I really don't know. But does it matter? We're trapped in here now. If she's lucky, that bastard Claude would've taken her and found someplace safe by now."

Stanley nodded. "Yeah," he said slowly. In fact he hoped the opposite. If Claude thought he was safe in some locked room with Elisa slowly transforming, he was probably dead by now.

"We're _fucking _stuck here!" he shouted, swiping aside some of the stationery that was lying on the desk. Isabel stirred, unable to stay asleep with all the noise they had been making. She inhaled deeply. Stanley, shaken by Ethan's sudden outburst, rose from the armchair and sat against the wall beside her.

"Hey," he murmured. She looked back and frowned.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to gain her forgiveness for leaving Elisa behind. "For our argument before."

She shook her head. "No, it's okay. It's just – I thought that she's probably dead now, because of us."

Stanley swallowed. He wanted to comfort her and tell her that they weren't to blame, but deep down he knew it. If they hadn't encountered them in the subway or if Stanley hadn't led those things back to the carriage, she may have still been alive.

"No," said Ethan, before Stanley could lie. "It was all my fault. I told you guys to leave her and follow me. Now look." He thumped his fist against the wall. "We're stuck in this office surrounded by god knows how many of them, with three bullets." He held his gun up and shook it. "No one's coming for us."

That last statement stayed inside Stanley's head for a moment, attaching itself to another statement he heard recently. '_I'm gonna come get her.'_

"That's not true," he whispered as a plan formulated in his head. The phone was lying on the ground across from him. Would it work? Did Lane really love Isabel as Stanley thought he did? He reached for it anyway and flipped it open.

"What're you doing?" asked Isabel, watching him go to her recent calls menu and redialing the first number that appeared. It rang. Stanley held his finger to his mouth to hush both Ethan and Isabel, who were confused.

"Isabel?" came Lane's voice once more.

"No it's Stanley!" he said, adding a hint of panic in his voice.

"Ugh, what the hell do _you_ want?" asked Lane angrily.

"It's – it's Isabel!"

Lane's fury immediately changed to anxiety. "What!? What happened?"

"She's been bitten," he said, sniffing a little to add to the effect. Isabel's mouth dropped open in contempt at what he was saying. Ethan however, slowly worked out Stanley's plan. "She's bleeding badly. You've gotta get here. We're surrounded and I can't treat her."

He could hear Lane give a roar of frustration and fear. "Where are you? Didn't I tell you something like this was going to happen?! Didn't I!?"

"We're at some oilfield overlooking the dam, up on a hill inside an office. You've got to come quick; I don't know how much longer we can hold them off!"

"Keep her safe, I'm on my way!"

Stanley slid the phone on the floor back to where he dropped it earlier, ignoring Isabel's continued glower.

"He's on his way," he said with a smirk.


	16. Unfriendly Reunion

_**A/N **_-- Okay, so I'm nearing the end now (I don't want to drag this story on for too long and let's face it, this story has **a lot **of room for improvement). I've been working on some rewrites of the previous chapters too. Thanks for your continued support and reviews guys. I really _really _appreciate them.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

_**5:47 a.m. **_

"Who was that?" asked Isabel, glaring at Stanley. "Who was that and why did you tell them I was bitten, because I'm not."

"Why?" asked Ethan suspiciously. "What's wrong with being bitten? Is that how this thing spreads?"

Stanley ignored him as he concentrated on Isabel. He didn't want to tell her that Lane was still alive. He didn't want her to discover what he had discovered: That Lane was planning to profit from this by selling it to the highest bidder. But she deserved to know who was on the phone. "It was Lane."

Isabel looked stunned, flinching at the sound of his name in confusion. "W – What?"

"He's coming," said Stanley stiffly. "And he's going to get us out of here."

"But I don't understand?" she said, slumping back onto the floor, taken aback. "He told us to leave remember? Back at the office ... he said he was gonna turn into one of them?"

"He lied."

"But _why_? Why would he do that Stan? Why would he just leave us?"

Stanley bit his lip this time. With Isabel already frustrated, he knew she'd be even more flustered when he told her the truth. She shrugged at him, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, but you can ask him when he gets here." He almost spat the last few words. They were relying on a murderer to get them out of there. Something inside begged him not to forgive Lane, no matter what his explanation was. Was the virus affecting his mind again? He remembered his hostility in the subway.

"And how exactly is he going to get rid of all those people out there by himself?" asked Ethan, who was standing with his arms crossed. Everyone fell silent as they listened to the snarls of the infected outside.

Stanley shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm guessing we'll find out."

* * *

_**6:09 a.m.**_

Lane had still not arrived. Ethan was reading a novel he found on top of the foreman's desk. His finger followed the words on the page, the same way a child would read. But at the rate he was reading, Stanley was sure he'd finish the thick book in less than four hours. He was surprised that Ethan was an avid reader.

He himself remained seated quietly on the couch, hoping to hear any signs of Lane coming to them. Stanley had given him a vague description of their current location, but he was optimistic that it was enough.

"Stanley," said Isabel softly. "Can I – can I talk to you?"

He turned to her and nodded. She held his hand and pulled him closer.

"I've just been thinking and… I just – I just wanted you to know something," she whispered.

Stanley leaned even closer as she continued. His legs were shaking. "Just in case we don't – y'know – make it, I just wanted you to know that …"

He nodded, encouraging her. But inside, he had a feeling he knew what she was going to say. He shrugged it off, attributing it to wishful thinking.

She smiled as she shook her head, like she knew she was going to regret what she was going to say. "I – I had feelings for you once too."

His heart skipped a beat, not sure he heard her right. "What?"

She swallowed but pressed on. "And when I thought Lane died – I let my feelings for you revive to ease the pain of losing him – but now that you've told me he's still alive, I dunno…"

Stanley looked at her caringly before embracing her. He felt her head rest on his shoulder and he rubbed her back with his hand to comfort her confusion. He shouldn't have told her... He didn't mean to interfere with her relationship with his brother.

"Listen," he said shakily into her ear. "I feel like I did a stupid, _stupid _thing not confessing sooner. I know – it took me so long to tell you back at Yoshida, but I'm glad I did and…" he felt a sharp stab at his heart. "And I understand you love Lane, and I know you'll remain faithful to him."

She broke from his hug before giving him a warm kiss on the cheek. She clamped her hand over her mouth as though she had done something forbidden. Stanley rubbed the spot where she kissed him and flushed. It was such a good feeling…

"Hey."

The pair of them turned to Ethan, Stanley glad that he interrupted their awkward moment. He waved a makeshift bookmark made from paper. "I have a fair idea of where to go next."

Both Isabel and Stanley looked at him, confused. "Where?"

Unfolding the paper bookmark, Ethan showed them a map. Stanley got off the couch and went to take a closer look. Ethan had drawn a red circle around an area of the map. "There's an old mine shaft here, and it ends up outside the perimeter. If we're lucky –"

"—we can bypass the military," finished Stanley, clicking his fingers. "Good."

"All we need to do now then," said Isabel, staying on the couch. "Is wait for Lane."

But they didn't have to.

The squealing of tires came from outside, together with a chorus of snarls and roars. Everyone sat up straight, listening intently to the action going on outside. The sound of automatic fire blended in with the sound of flesh being torn. High pitched squeals echoed outside as the gunfire paused for a moment.

The shrieks outside continued, but their cries were suppressed by another thirty seconds of shooting. Stanley moved to the door, carefully removing the non essential parts to their barricade.

The gunfire subsided, as did the growling of the infected. The outside force had presumably wiped out all the infected, for the only noise outside now were the rather loud noises of someone reloading. Believing it was indeed his brother, he began tearing apart the major components of the barricade. Ethan and Isabel came to his aid. Hurried footsteps crunched the gravel outside. Stanley made a shooing motion with his hand, and they both stepped away from the door. Stanley pressed his back against the wall, waiting.

The door wrenched open, and a shadowy figure entered with his gun raised. "Isa –"

But Stanley cut Lane off with a punch to the face. He howled, falling outside onto the gravel. What appeared to be a sub-machine gun slipped out of his hands, clattering a fair distance away. Isabel gasped in surprise at Stanley's punch, but Stanley blocked her from running towards Lane on the ground. Outside was the very same vehicle Stanley recognised as the one that had smashed into him back at Morton's mansion when he arrived.

"No, it's me," taunted Stanley, stepping outside. The wind was strong outside. He could hear the loud whistling as he turned to the gun. The logo of Yoshida International glistened from its side.

Being the head of security at Yoshida had its benefits.

Distracted by his examination of the gun, Lane pounced on him. Smacking on the ground, the two brothers rolled about, trying to pin each other down. Stanley was doing his best to keep Lane away from the gun a few feet away.

"What're you doing?!" shrieked Isabel. "Stanley? Lane? Stop!"

The two men rose, with Lane elbowing Stanley in the stomach. He was knocked backwards, spluttering. Lane made for another blow, but Stanley threw a hook at his face. Barely fazed by the punch, Lane made another attempt to elbow his brother, but this time Stanley punched him straight in the heart. Lane gasped for air, his hand groping around his upper torso. He crumpled, leaving Stanley standing above him, panting. He turned to Isabel, who looked frightened beside Ethan.

"It's oka—"

But Lane wasn't done. Wheezing, he swung his leg, swiping Stanley off his feet. Crashing on the ground, Stanley helplessly watched Lane rise, retrieving a pistol from the back of his trousers.

"Don't move!" said Ethan, also producing his handgun. But Lane's reactions were far too quick. He spun around, recklessly firing two rounds quick in succession. Ethan caught one, yelling as he crashed onto the gravel. Isabel screams were begging Lane to stop as Stanley lay on his back. He made to swipe Lane's legs as he had done, but unbearable pain surged from his heart as it was crushed by Lane's foot. He yelped, writhing in pain. His brother stood dominantly in front of him, the barrel of the pistol inches away from Stanley's face.

"What're you doing!?" squealed Isabel. She looked over her shoulder while crouched beside Ethan. Stanley could barely make out his immobile body under the moonlight.

"Why?" coughed Stanley. "Why are you doing this?"

The pistol was beginning to shake in Lane's hand. Lane sneered in confusion. "You punched me first asshole."

"You tried to kill me!" said Stanley, massaging his heart. "What the hell did I ever do to make you want to do that?!"

"_What_!?" cried Isabel, sobbing as her boyfriend kept the gun trained on Stanley, whose words hit her hard. "Is this true? Lane!?"

"Don't tell me I have to remind you," he spat, ignoring the cries of his girlfriend.

Stanley shook his head in disbelief. His own brother was driven mad by his grief after losing the other members of their family. And now he was prepared to kill the last one that remained; the one that he deemed responsible for taking them all away. And he had to wait until the city had plunged into chaos? "You're still blaming me for _them_? You think it's **my **fault our family fell apart?"

"It is!" he said shrilly, a small tear coming from his eye. "And it's not just them!" He nodded towards Isabel. Stanley removed his gaze from the gun to Isabel, watching with her mouth gaping. She looked too scared to come close. "You were going to take her away from me too. I saw you two today!"

"I don't know what you—"

"Don't lie, don't lie, don't you **fucking lie to me**!" His voiced was raised now, and the gun was no longer trembling. He was prepared to kill. The virus seemed to be the source of his violent behavior. "That was the last straw Stanley. I tried to let you go; forget about all this, but you just had to keep making shit worse for me didn't you?"

Stanley looked to Isabel once more, who was rolling a moaning Ethan over. She seemed to be looking for something.

"Lane," she choked, tears streaming down her face as she continued groping. "Lane, stop! Don't do this! Please don't do this. Please – please put the gun away! Stanley didn't do anything!"

Lane's lips quivered as his finger slackened around the trigger. He couldn't believe that it had come to this.

Stanley could see his hesitation, the gun shaking once more. He wasn't going to shoot. Lane didn't have the guts. Letting rabid people loose on his brother was one thing. Pulling the trigger yourself was something else entirely. "Well it definitely took you long enough to get around to murdering your younger brother. Is it because there's no order now? Because you can do whatever the fuck you please? Well then do it. If you think you've got the balls, pull that goddamn trigger."

He stared at his brother in contempt. It only took a few seconds before he heard him shoot.

At least, he thought he did.

Lane had fallen to the ground, yelling as he grabbed his shoulder. Looking to his right, Isabel was holding Ethan's gun, smoke from the barrel slowly evaporating into the air. She ran towards Stanley tearfully, who was still on the ground.

"Are you okay?" she asked, sniffing. But Stanley's eyes were fixed on the fallen pistol, and Lane's outstretched arm.

"No!" Stanley yelled, snatching the pistol out of Isabel's hands as he leaped up. Lane's hand scooped the gun up but Stanley's foot came swinging at it. His kick sent the gun flying a couple of feet away as Lane recoiled in pain.

"Don't you move," said Stanley, aiming at his brother's chest. His eyes were squinting as the sun slowly rose in the distance.


	17. ACT III: Rising Sun

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**6:17 a.m. – Oil Field  
Damuca County**_

The sun was steadily climbing, pushing back the darkness. Several gray clouds remained in the dispersing orange glow. The fallen bodies of the infected were scattered across the oil field; Lane's handiwork. Stanley felt sorry for the fallen people around him. They were all victims of an unfortunate outbreak, one that Lane was partially responsible for.

"I'm fine," Ethan said, as he struggled to pull himself off the gravel. The 9mm round was still visible in his vest, lodged in the Kevlar. Lane was sitting against the wall beside Isabel under Stanley's supervision.

"I don't even know if I know you anymore…" she whispered, looking upset. Stanley had explained all that he had done to her, and despite his objections, she believed Stanley.

Lane glared at Stanley. "He's taken everything from me" He turned and looked into Isabel's eyes. "And now he's trying to take you too. Please, _please _don't let him."

"I love you Lane," she said, on the brink of crying. "Really, I do, but after what's happened… I – I don't know if I can anymore."

Lane's eyebrows narrowed, his lips quivering. His look of misery was replaced with hatred at Stanley before looking down at his feet again.

"Hey," whispered Ethan, tapping Stanley on the shoulder before holding out his hand. "Gimme the gun."

Stanley stared blankly at Ethan, the gun at his side. He didn't want to. Fury was swelling up inside him, so much that he just wanted to torture his brother for the mess he and Morton had caused. Nadia didn't deserve what happened to her. Neither did Elisa or Phil. Nor all the dead people surrounding them. _He_ didn't deserve to have that virus flowing through him, poisoning him.

"C'mon, he's your brother. Let me keep an eye on him. Take care of her." He nodded towards Isabel, who had shifted down the wall several meters, avoiding Lane. "She's a wreck. She needs you…"

Stanley had a hard time letting go of the hatred, but Ethan was right. He couldn't stoop to his brother's level. Letting out a deep breath, he slowly put the gun in Ethan's hands.

"Thank you," said Ethan. "I saw them just down that road we came up on. They're coming. You better sort her out quick."

But Stanley already turned his back on him and walked toward Isabel.

"Hey," he said, giving a weak smile. She looked back at him and managed to return a small smile back. "Come on, we're gonna get out of here." He looked towards the car.

"Where're we going?"

"The mines remember?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that's right. I'm sorry, I'm just a little…" she waved her hands around.

Stanley grinned a little, holding out his hand. "It's okay."

"Ready when you are," called Ethan at the two of them. Lane snorted blood from his nose, causing Ethan to groan in disgust. He grabbed a rag from his pocket and threw it at his face.. Isabel took hold of Stanley's hand and he helped her up.

The rear of Lane's car was still indented after the crash back on Casper Island outside Morton's mansion. It seemed so long ago…

Beside the tire was another pistol; the one that Stanley had disarmed from Lane. He glanced at Ethan, who was inspecting his own pistol. Stanley knelt down and scooped it up in his hands.

"C'mon, get up," said Ethan, grabbing Lane's injured shoulder. He hissed in pain as he stood up, keeping his gaze focused on his feet. Stanley had no idea what they were going to do with him. Was he a fellow survivor? Or a prisoner?

Stanley opened the door for Isabel and watched her climb into the front seat. He was to be driving while Ethan sat in the back, guarding Lane. He seemed somewhat recovered from that bullet he took and his previously dislocated arm. Lane's fallen sub-machine gun was picked up by Ethan, who checked the magazine for any ammunition. A look of satisfaction on his face, he followed Lane to the car.

"Get in, hurry up," said Ethan but his harsh barking caused his gunshot wound to burn. He keeled over in pain. Lane opened the car door, and in less than a second, flung it towards a hurting Ethan. It knocked him backwards, and he yelled, clutching his chest. Taking this opportunity, Lane punched him square in the nose, knocking him to the ground.

"Lane!" screamed Stanley on the other side of the car. He pulled out the other pistol and took aim through the windows. Isabel ducked instinctively, giving Stanley a clear shot of Lane's uninjured shoulder; he had no intent to kill his own brother. A look of frenzy on Lane's face, he ducked below the car just as Stanley pulled the trigger. The glass shattered as he flinched from the recoil. He was a novice after all. Disorientated by the loud gunshot, he saw Lane scurry away from the car and towards the line of trees.

Isabel jumped out of the car. "Lane!"

Behind them, the growls of the infected were growing louder. The sound of the gunshot had to have stimulated them. Stanley looked between the woods and Isabel, forced to make a decision. He couldn't let Lane get away, but he did not want to leave Isabel's side…

Time was running out. Get his brother, or stay with Isabel. He quickly weighed his options before making a decision.

"Here," said Stanley, shoving the gun in Isabel's hands. "Make sure you get to the mines okay?"

The gun shook in her hands. "No!" She swallowed, watching her boyfriend run into the woods. "Forget about him Stanley. We'll all go togeth—"

"No listen to me," said Stanley strictly. "Take Ethan, and get out of here before the military discover there's another way out. _Please_."

Before she opened her mouth in protest again, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged. It was quite possibly the last time he'd have a chance. Without thinking, he brought his lips up to her cheek and kissed her. An exhilarating feeling grew rapidly inside him, throwing off the effects of the virus for a small moment. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to keep her close. Her body kept him warm.

After what seemed like several hours, he released her. She reddened with a smile slowly broadening on her face. Stanley nodded with a small grin before taking off, not looking back. Lane was already way ahead. He didn't know why he was chasing him, but he needed to catch him.

"Lane must've gotten the vials when he was at Morton's," thought Stanley. "And he got away just as I arrived. He has to know where the vials are. I've got to stop him."

"Don't you want the gun!? Stanley!?"

"No!" he called back, running through the trees. A gun wasn't going to help much apart from subdue him, but he felt that his body was slowly shutting down. Coupled with his lack of marksmanship, he doubted the gun would be of any use. Isabel seemed to be better at using it than he was, judging from when she saved him from Lane.

With plenty of foliage in the way, it was hard to navigate through the miniature forest. He took care not to trip over any vines or logs. The ground was still muddy from the rain a few hours ago, making it difficult for Stanley to keep his speed up without tumbling the rest of the way down. Lane's silhouette was only just in sight, but he needed to exert extra speed to catch up to his brother.

* * *

_**6:26 a.m.**_

Panting, Stanley brushed aside more leaves and saw the road a couple of feet in front. It was devoid of cars. He spotted Lane running across, still clutching his wounded shoulder.

"Lane!" Stanley called out again, chasing after him. Lane looked over his shoulder but kept running. Stanley looked both sides. More of the infected were sprinting towards both of them from the left and right.

"For god's sake," he said, gasping for air. He was running on pure adrenaline now.

Up ahead was a rather large red barn beside a small farmhouse. Stanley closed in on Lane as he struggled to clamber over a wooden fence. The roars of the undead behind him were unnerving. He had no idea what he was going to do if he caught his brother. Lane wasn't exactly going to co-operate, and he wasn't going to be able to drag him through the horde of the undead outside.

Lane landed on the other side and crossed through the plowed fields just as Stanley hopped the fence. The door to the barn was partially ajar, allowing Lane to slip inside. Behind Stanley, the infected were struggling to scramble over the fence, despite the opening a couple of meters away. Stanley himself felt embarrassed that he didn't notice it either.

He rushed through the barn doors. Just as he bolted the doors shut, someone grabbed him from behind. Instinctively, Stanley elbowed the assailant in the face.

"Nice shot!" called Lane's voice. Stanley recognized the man he had knocked down to be some sort of farmer, perhaps the owner of the property they were trespassing on. Above him was Lane, standing on an upper floor. A fallen ladder lay on the ground underneath him. Lane had evidently knocked it down to prevent Stanley from climbing up.

The man hissed as he got back up again, his arms outstretched as though he was going to bear hug him. Stanley punched him again before looking around for any sort of tool to use against him. Lane let out a laugh and clapped lightly, enjoying the show from his position.

A shovel propped against the wall caught his eye, and he ran to swipe it. The scowling farmer raced towards him, mouth wide open. Clasping onto the wooden handle, Stanley swung the shovel in the air, making a clanging noise as it smacked into the man's face. The man was swept off his feet, shrieking as Stanley raised the shovel above his head. He brought the thin edge down on the farmer's face, slicing through his decayed face. Blood shot upwards like a fountain, and Lane applauded sarcastically.

"C'mon Stanley!" he yelled, laughing above him. He waved at him to come. "Come! Let's see if you can take out the last remaining Parfetti member. Complete the _fucking _set!"

"It wasn't my goddamn fault!" screamed Stanley. The barn doors were shaking as the infected outside battered the wooden frames. "Coincidence. It was all just coincidence."

But Lane kept laughing. Stanley was completely confused by his brother's erratic behavior now, and he finally succumbed to the virus' command to kill. Anger surged through him as he grabbed the fallen ladder and propped it towards the landing where Lane was. Lane snorted before kicking it backwards. Stanley growled in frustration before the doors were finally being pounded on. They had begun their assault on the barn.

"You're running out of time down there Stan!"

Aggravated, he retrieved the ladder and slammed it against the barn wall, out of Lane's reach. He began to ascend, his smirking brother watching from the upper floor. Echoes of voices rang in his head as he made his way up. Isabel's pleas for help from the previous morning; Nadia's shrill screams as she leaped off the gurney table; Lane's voice on the voicemail at Morton's estate claiming to sell the virus. 24 hours ago, he was cooking his breakfast of sausages and toast. Now it had come to him fighting his brother.

He felt the instability of the ladder as he ascended. The doors were getting closer to being breached, with the morning sun slowly pouring in through the gap between the two doors. Stanley reached the top and swallowed. Too far for him to jump. Leaning towards the side, the feet of the ladder began to budge. Gripping the edges tightly, he rocked the ladder side to side. With too much momentum, the ladder toppled sideways towards the upper floor. A fair distance away now, Stanley leaped off, allowing the ladder to crash onto the ground as he thudded at Lane's feet.

"I think it's about time we settled this, don't you?" Lane said with a grin.

And he kicked his brother in the face.


	18. Blood Brothers

**Chapter Eighteen**

_**6:32 a.m. – Barnhouse  
Damuca County**_

Stanley crumpled against the barn wall behind him, shattering a tiny glass window. The sunrise was clear now, a rainbow of colors refracting off the glass shards. The shock broke him out of his daze. His eyes darted from side to side, his mind trying to keep up with what was happening. Everything came into focus as Lane charged at him, fists clenched.

"Show me what you got _Stan_!"

Breathless, Stanley ducked. He launched himself into Lane's legs, knocking him forward. Stanley slid underneath, creating some distance. Lane reached out to break the fall, clutching the window sill. Pieces of glass embedded themselves into his hand. Lane's howl of pain chorused with the low groan of the infected outside.

Stanley reached the opposite end of the barns upper level, looking for something to defend himself with. A toolbox lay to the side, partially ajar. With a glance, he spotted Lane wrenching the last shards from his hand.

"Not bad," he hissed.

Lane was too skilled for him to beat with his bare fists. He was experienced in hand to hand combat; part of his job as head of security at Yoshida International. He rummaged through the toolbox, yanking out whatever was in his grip; a spanner.

"Why'd you do this?" Stanley panted sadly, closing the gap between the two. His hand was raised, ready to strike. "What the hell were you trying to do?"

Lane kept his cool. "If you're talking about everything that's happened today, you've got the wrong guy. **I **didn't do anything. Morton's the one who screwed it all up."

With only a few feet separating them, Lane surged forward. Stanley's swing was blocked, his arm grasped by Lane's tight grip. The spanner slipped from his hand and clattered on the ground. Stanley's arm immobile, his other arm groped for Lane's neck. He struggled to lock his hand around it, while Lane's grip tightened considerably. Amidst their struggle, a small click came from Stanley's arm.

"Argh!" he screamed, excruciating pain shooting through him. Stanley recoiled, releasing his hold on Lane's neck.

Seizing the opportunity, Lane rushed and gave a strong shove. Stanley fell backwards, catching a glimpse of Lane's malicious grin as he nearly fell off the edge.

"You never were one for fighting Stan," said Lane, snorting.

"Do you have any idea how many people died today?" said Stanley, climbing to his feet. He was still dizzy from the fall. "Isabel and I – we watched Nadia die Lane!!"

"Oh yeah? Well if it wasn't for me, a lot more people would've died."

Lane picked up the spanner off the floor board. His knuckles white from his tense grip, he paced slowly toward Stanley, wary of any movement. Stanley was confused. What was he talking about?

"I tried to _stop _it!"

Stanley sneered in disbelief. "You keep telling yourself that Lane. I saw you at Morton's last night." He wiped the bit of blood sliding from his lip. "You stole those vials. Who'd you give them to?"

Lane laughed out loud. "Alright, alright. So I lied. Morton was too much of a pussy to go through with this, and those guys wanted proof this thing could drag down a whole city. A win-win situation right?"

He swung the spanner. Stanley was too slow, and it ended up smacking harshly on the side of his head. He fell to the ground, clutching his injury. Blood trickled down his neck and stained the top of his sweater.

Lane kicked him in the chin, throwing Stanley backward. The pain was unbearable, holding him down like a weight. Standing above him was Lane, leering.

"You stole her away from me," he said quietly. "Just like everything else… You just kept pushing it... and I snapped."

Stanley tensed before a loud crash echoed from underneath. Lane glanced back. The barn door buckled, surrendering to the invading horde. Dozens of them shuffled inside, sniffing the air.

Lane turned his attention back to his brother, only to get whacked in the face by Stanley's elbow. Saliva shot out as he staggered backward before thumping on the floor. The spanner slipped out of his hand and landed by Stanley's foot.

"I didn't steal her from you," said Stanley angrily, panting. It was difficult to stand straight with his throbbing head. "It was your fault. You left her alone. She thought you were dead. _I_ thought you were dead."

Lane was on his back. His eyebrows narrowed as he released a snarl not unlike the ones from the infected.

"You were always her first choice," said Stanley desperately. If he could calm Lane down, that'd be the end of it. There was no escape anyway; beneath them were at least twenty zombies, and the window was too small to fit through. The least he could do was make up to his brother. "She only came to me because _you_–" he pointed sternly towards him,** "—** deserted her."

Lane breathed quietly, speechless.

Stanley knelt beside him. "Lane… what happened to you?" He sniffed as his eyes began to water. "What the hell happened to you?"

Fury was etched on his face. He didn't seem to understand. "You think you can take everything away from me you little shit. I won't let you take Isabel… I can't live without…

Stanley glared at him. "I don't think she wants to be with a mass murderer Lane."

He spat. "I'm surprised she fell for a coward like you."

"What?"

Taking advantage of Stanley's confusion, Lane sucker punched him. He grappled him and slammed his fist into Stanley's chest. Stanley wheezed, taking another punch before being hurled across the platform. His back bounced on the wood before his head did. Every part of his body was in agony, pinning him to the floor. Lane collected the spanner before stumbling towards him.

"Are you out of your _fucking _mind Lane?"

"Isabel and I," breathed Lane, beating the spanner against his hand. Stanley couldn't move a muscle. He was too tired, and too hurt. "We were gonna get out of this city together. The two of us were gonna start a whole new life, have a family – until you came back into our lives, and ruined _everything_."

Stanley sneered, shaking his head. Fury was building inside. Lane just wouldn't understand. Either his aggression was clouding his judgement, or he was genuinely jealous. Stanley hadn't meant to interfere.

"Why'd you even come back? You took off after Dad died and Pam moved away. Coward."

Stanley swallowed. Lane's accusations were cutting him deep.

"Then Morton had to cause all of this shit, and screw our lives up." He waved his hand around. "Only for _you _to take advantage of it. And now look. **Look what's happened Stan**."

"I guess I was wrong. Nothing's changed. You're still the jealous, pompous asshole I grew up with."

"All you had to do was leave us alone."

Stanley stared. "How'd you think Pam would feel about what you're doing right now?"

Lane's eyes lit up in fury, but he bit back his retort. The groans of the zombies were getting louder as more moved into the barn. "I don't have any more time to play with you. It's about time I ended this I think."

Stanley felt something strange acting in his body. He wasn't sure if it was the virus that was coursing through him or the adrenaline, but the pain seemed to be disappearing. He had to act now. There was only one last chance to beat Lane. One last chance to end it all – for both of them.

"See you in hell Stan."

And with that, he raised the spanner for the killing blow. Stanley felt a surge of adrenaline. Without thinking, he leapt to his feet. Lane froze as Stanley spear tackled him. The sudden strike made him gasp. Stanley grasped Lane tightly as they staggered towards the edge. Lane glanced back and saw the pool of zombies beneath them.

"No! Idiot!"

Stanley felt his own feet leave the platform. Within seconds both men fell through the air. The faces of longing on the infected came into focus as they came closer to the ground.

"You mother fu—"

Lane was cut off as they fell onto a pile of hay. The zombies closed in on them, their hands groping inside for the first hint of flesh they could find. Lane was already screaming as hands grasped onto Stanley's arms.


	19. Condemned Tunnel

A/N - Thanks so much for the positive reviews guys. I felt the need to update this before I head back to school (exam season ugh) so here is Chapter 19. I can't thank my readers enough, you guys keep me going!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**6:35 a.m. – Damuca County**_

Apart from an abandoned looking building labelled '_Mlynskiy's Motors'_, only trees lined each side of the road as Isabel drove on, her visor blocking the strengthening sun. Ethan kept his head up, pinching his nose. He watched Isabel's hands trembling at the steering wheel, hearing her mumbling as tears streamed from her eyes. He could never understand what she was feeling. He hadn't even found a significant other, let alone lost someone he loved. Glancing at the side mirror, a cloud of smoke rose above New Barkham. He sighed. If he could, he would've hung his head. All those people he failed to save back at the city… that little girl.

'_And then what?_' he thought. '_You let a college kid die, and then left a man and a woman for dead.'_

He was used to suppressing these feelings, but after Stanley had recognized his coldness, he wasn't able to suck it up like he had usually done.

'_You had to do it. You would've died otherwise,' _he kept telling himself. _'It was necessary.'_

But there was one underlying message that wouldn't leave his head as he kept looking at Isabel. _'You're a soldier. You were meant to save as many as you could. You're no hero. You ran away.'_

Neither of them spoke as Isabel weaved in and out of the abandoned cars on the country road. Isabel ignored the several straggling people on the road, trapped in her own thoughts.

"How much further?" said Isabel quietly. She brought a hand to her face and wiped away a tear.

Ethan fished the map of Damuca County from his pocket. Inspecting the landscape, he made a rough estimate as to how far they were from the red circle drawn on the crumpled paper.

"A minute or two?"

She nodded, keeping her focus on the road. The gun Stanley had given her was in the backseat beside the sub-machine gun they confiscated from Lane. Only two magazines were beside it, one of which was half-spent. Lane was quite the trigger-happy person.

"Right there," said Ethan, pointing. A dirt driveway branched from the road, blocked by a metal gate. Trees were finally missing, and a small cliff face was visible. Disregarding the gate, she crashed through. The impact made them buckle, sending Ethan's head into the ceiling.

"Ow! Did you really have to go that fast into it?" he asked, clutching his nose. "Jesus Christ."

Isabel apologized before slowing the car to a halt. The cave was a few feet away, fenced off poorly with a few planks of wood; a worn '_Condemned – No Trespassing_' sign plastered on it for good measure. More sinisterly, a dead man with a stake through his face was slumped next to the entrance. Ethan scanned the immediate area. After a few seconds of solid searching, he opened the door and slid out. His nose felt better, although the dried blood near his mouth irritated him.

"Shouldn't we wait?" asked Isabel, retrieving her pistol. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it. It was hard enough incapacitating Lane.

Ethan himself took the sub-machine gun along with the two magazines. "Stanley you mean?" Isabel nodded.

He frowned, loading the magazine into the weapon. It was a standard MP5, not unlike the one he was armed with back when he was with his squad. "Well we're not waiting out here." He nodded his head towards the entrance. "Let's get inside first."

Isabel agreed, and they both jogged towards the blocked alcove. Wary of the body, Ethan approached the man, kicking him softly. The corpse fell onto the ground, immobile. The man's uniform read '_Mlynskiy's Motors'_, with a smudged nametag on the front reading '_Artem'. _His arm was riddled with teeth marks, and his eyes were plain white. Even more worrying was a trail of blood leading underneath the barricade. Prudent, Ethan studied the interior of the cavern before sliding underneath the wooden boards. Turning, he helped Isabel crawl under. Her ¾ jeans smeared with dirt as she rose, they pressed on into the dimly lit cavern. A stale smell came from an old elevator shaft in front of them, with mine carts sitting idly on some tracks. They were empty.

"It smells horrible in here," whispered Isabel, bringing her arm up to cover her nostrils. The cavern smelled like sulfur.

"You bet," said Ethan, raising his gun. Isabel did the same, her hands shaking minimally as she covered wherever Ethan was not aiming. The cave seemed clear, but several noises nearby kept him alert. The blood trail continued around a corner into a tunnel branching off the main entrance. Pitch black, neither could detect any movement in the shadows.

"Cover me," he muttered, stalking towards the darkness. Isabel followed closely, struggling to ensure Ethan was out of her line of fire. Her hands began to tremble. She felt uncomfortable entering the darkness. Ethan kept his cool; his breathing pattern slowing down. A low moan echoed from within.

"Come out with your hands where I can see them," warned Ethan. The moaning stopped. Ethan stopped too, his gaze darting around the tunnel. A quiet sniffing noise was followed by a shriek. Pinpointing the noise, Ethan turned and fired a three round burst. A teenage country girl wearing overalls appeared briefly. All three shots missed. Memorizing where the girl stood, Isabel fired a single shot. An unsettling splurshing noise rang out. Her bullet had penetrated the girl's upper torso. She halted for a moment. Ethan retreated. He raised his gun and fired three more rounds. The girl's screeching ceased immediately, followed by a thump. Isabel panted, moving off to the side before she felt something connect with her leg. She shrieked as her face buried into the dirt.

"Where?!" asked Ethan, spinning around.

Spluttering, Isabel got to her feet. "I'm okay. I think I tripped over some sort of wire."

Ethan followed her voice. Still cautious, his eyes barely discerned the silhouette of an apparent transformer. Freeing a hand, he groped for a switch. His fingers wrapped around what felt like a lever, and wrenched it down. The machine gave a small hum. It came to life simultaneously with the lamps fixed to the tunnel walls. Their victim laid face up on the ground, a snarl still etched on her face. Ethan crouched beside her as Isabel went to get a look.

"Oh my god," said Isabel, gasping. The girl was no older than fifteen. She didn't seem as badly mutilated as the others they had encountered. From what she could see, the only injury apart from her gunshot wounds was located on her leg. A portion of her overalls had been torn off, and the fatal bite wound was covered with blood and torn denim.

"I think she was trying to hide…" said Isabel. Ethan looked back up at Isabel, his face missing any emotion. It didn't seem to register with him that he had just killed a young girl. "She had no idea that this –" she gestured toward the bite mark, "would turn her into some monster."

Ethan bit his nails as he studied the corpse. "So it's true then? The bites do this? The guy outside had plenty of 'em and he looked like he was one too."

Isabel looked at him, shrugging. "We think so… but—" she hesitated.

Ethan's eyes suddenly widened, his eyebrows arching upwards. "Wait – I think – Wasn't Stanley bitten?"

Isabel didn't respond, simply dropping her gaze. Ethan got to his feet, his face contorted with anger. "You spare me this one detail that could've gotten us killed back at that office?"

"He said he wasn't going to change!" she cried. "He said that he was immune to whatever the hell this thing is!"

Ethan scoffed. "And you believe him? What proof does he have?"

Isabel racked her brain. Did Stanley tell her why? She couldn't remember. The lack of food and drink was taking its toll on her memory. "I – I can't remember."

Ethan's arms climbed as he let out a sigh of frustration. "_Great_! So for all we know, we're waiting for some stumbling man wearing a hooded sweater to come through that barricade and eat us."

"You don't understand!" said Isabel, her tone becoming fierce. "He was willing to leave me once he found out he was infected. Why would he turn around and lie a few hours later?"

"Oh I dunno." He rubbed his chin in mock thought before making a 'eureka' pose. "Hey, maybe it's 'cause he was madly in love with you and didn't wanna leave you? That oughta do it."

Isabel shook her head. "Oh shut up." She tucked the gun back into her ¾ jeans. "If you're not gonna wait for him, then you might as well get the hell out of here."

Taken aback by her harsh words, Ethan glanced back at the old elevator shaft. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "Maybe I will." He brushed past Isabel, ignoring her glare and approached the rusting elevator.

"Don't you have any feelings?" cried Isabel, raising her hands in aggravation at Ethan's back. "Did you feel anything when you killed that girl just now? Did you feel anything when you left Elisa to die last night?"

Ethan froze. "Don't you fucking dare!" He turned around, looking furious. "Come to think of it, she was bitten too. Maybe it was a good thing we didn't take her with us. Maybe she'd have teamed up with your boyfriend back at the oil field and killed us all."

He continued towards the elevator, leaving Isabel shocked, but he was not gonna make her abandon someone else. Not this time.

"You don't care about anyone else do you?" Her voice broke. "Only _yourself – you _getting away okay. Well guess what? Other people need your help too! You're a soldier! You're meant to _help people_! Not just _kill them_!"

Ethan stiffened, comparing Isabel's latest lecture to his recent thoughts in the car. Feeling a tinge of regret, he climbed into the elevator, slamming the cage door behind him. Isabel swallowed while Ethan pouted. The two stared at each other, each tense before Ethan finally pressed the switch. The platform jerked, and a deafening screech came from the machinery. Motionless for a few seconds, the platform began to lower.

Isabel slowly left his line of sight. She had slumped against the moist cavern wall, visibly upset as she began to sniff. He shivered, suddenly feeling cold. He felt his heart drop, sighing quietly as he looked through the metal grating he was standing on.

'_You're running away again.'_

He closed his eyes. His head span. She was right. He was being a coward; disregarding why he joined the National Guard in the first place. What was he thinking?

'_You're a soldier. You're meant to help people. Not just kill them.'_

His heart pounded as his upper teeth dug into his lip. Freedom was just a couple of feet away, and here he was, pondering whether he should wait for someone who was apparently infected with this virus. On the surface, he felt it a waste of time. But deep down, he didn't want to leave Isabel by herself waiting for someone who might kill her.

'_You gotta admit; she has a big heart.'_

Looking back up at her, he felt that he finally began to understand why she was doing what she did – why she didn't want to leave Elisa behind in the mud last night. She was feeling the same thing he was feeling right now; the desire to not leave one behind – but she did not want to ignore it like he did.

Realizing this, guilt slowly ensnared his determination to preserve himself and tore the feeling apart. Elisa's struggles to stay alive… Claude's final words to him… the conversation with Stanley… Isabel's shouts at him… all of it became fresh in his mind. Why was he ignoring all the signs of what he had become?

A cold-blooded, uncaring monster. Feeling sick in his stomach, he rested his hand against the caged wall on the elevator.

'_How could I be so stupid?'_

He thought of his sister. He didn't need to wonder what he'd do if it was his sister who'd promised to make it to the mines and was sick with this disease. Sighing loudly, he scoffed, shaking his head. His gaze focused on the switch. Hesitating for the longest moment, he forced himself to let go of the support. Taking two long steps, he grasped the dangling remote control and stopped the platform. Isabel glanced back up, shaken at the elevator's sudden halt. The feeling in her stiff arms wrapped around her legs slowly came back, feeling hope she got through to the soldier.

'_I hope I don't regret this.'_

Ethan bit his lip, pressing the button again. The platform screeched and began its ascent. Each second the platform climbed, Isabel's nervous smile expanded. The elevator jerked to a halt, and he stepped off. Keeping his head down, he shuffled towards Isabel. "I'll wait, but only for a while, then I'm gone."

Isabel hugged him, her eyes moist. "That's all I'm asking. Thank you so much."

Ethan simply swallowed, allowing the gun to drop by his side. Inside, he felt the warmth associated with doing something good give him comfort.


	20. Death Defying

**Chapter Twenty**

_**6:37 a.m. – Barnhouse  
Damuca County**_

The shrieks were loud. Stanley was dazed, his vision swirling.

"Stan!"

"_Stan_!"

The cries of his name alerted him to danger. Panic ran through his mind. His breathing was erratic. Half a dozen were already dashing. Leading was a peculiar man wearing woodland fatigues; his frenzied face obscured by a gas mask. Stanley shook his head, trying to stay conscious as he shuffled backward. The soldier had a holster attached to his hip. The butt of a pistol caught his eye, and Stanley felt his heart leap.

He had a chance.

But the fight with Lane had drained him. The muffled scream of the soldier echoed around the barn in chorus with Lane's.

"Get the hell off!" Lane yelled, kicking away a woman. "Get off!"

He was being mauled by four of them. Stanley ignored his pleas, rolling himself sideways, his abdomen protesting in pain. The soldier stumbled, missing his swipe. The others knocked him aside in their haste. He fell a few feet away. Adrenaline pumping, Stanley struggled to get up, only to be tackled. The gun was barely out of reach. His arm stretched out, a horrible sensation jolted through his body. Teeth drilled into his shoulder blade. Tears of pain streamed as Stanley screamed. His fingers clasped the dirt, desperately pulling himself forward.

"Stanley!"

Stanley ignored him, his eyes focused on the prize. The man biting into his shoulder slowed Stanley's movement, allowing the soldier to recover from its daze just before he could reach him. Acting fast, Stanley grabbed his ankle, sweeping him off his feet. The soldier snarled, falling on its back. More teeth dug into Stanley's legs. He squirmed and shrieked, shaking off the zombies at his rear. They struggled to retain their grasp. Pulling himself forward another few feet, Stanley's fingers wrapped around the pistol. He wrenched it out with a cry of relief, his injuries burning. His whole arm trembled. The soldier raised its head, the intimidating mask glowering. Taking a deep breath, Stanley fired. The bullet pinged off the soldier's helmet, ricocheting into the wall.

"**Fuck!**"

The soldier was stunned from the impact. Seizing the opportunity, Stanley fired again, straight into the mask. Blood shot out, splattering all over him.

No time to check if he was dead.

Stanley turned his head, widening his eyes in surprise. Five of them. His heart went into overdrive, beating hard. He rolled onto his back. Bracing himself, he fired at the closest one, hitting his chest. The man stumbled backward, allowing Stanley to shuffle back.

"Get them off!"

Stanley glanced back. Lane was slowly being stripped of his skin. He sounded afraid, sobbing as he fought helplessly against them. Stanley's brain buzzed. His vision became blurry. The anxiety was too much. Unable to get a clear shot, he fired blindly. Two of five bullets found their targets. They crumpled instantly as the others merely staggered back.

Hearing the footsteps behind, he swivelled, only to have the gun knocked away. He looked up, yelling in shock. A woman pinned him, smearing his face with blood. He wrestled, thrashing his legs to avoid further bites from the others. His injured arm strained to keep her at bay. Her saliva dripped onto his face as she released her foul breath on him. He tried to wriggle his other arm free. Struggling, he slid his arm underneath her knee and made to punch her in the face. It was weak, but she recoiled. Shoving her off, he turned his head. The handgun was within reach. He crawled on his side. The woman rose; the rest of the pack trying to get past. Hand outstretched, Stanley reacquired the gun and spun around. Her head so close, he'd have been embarrassed if he missed. Panting, he pulled the trigger.

The woman cried out before slumping onto Stanley. The other three fell on their knees beside her. Her corpse made a decent shield, blanketing his body. The rest struggled to find any exposed skin to munch on. Stanley's arm trembled. His eyes felt heavy. His body slowly began to shut down from fatigue and stress. Doing his best to stay awake, he fired two more shots. He downed one but merely skimmed the other's ear.

He began to wheeze, his chest burning with each breath. Patiently, he shifted his aim, trying to find a good shot. Shooting twice, he continued to hit them non-lethally. Their objective changed from finding fresh skin they could eat to rolling the woman off. Their heads remained steady as they pushed, allowing Stanley an easy shot. He pulled the trigger again, finally killing another.

But then the slide locked back.

"Damn it!" The woman rolled over a bit. Half his body was uncovered.

"Stanley!"

"The gun's empty!!" Three quarters.

"**Stanley**!"

He turned around, panicking. "Didn't you hear –"

But Lane wasn't calling for help. He was on his back next to the soldier, bleeding profusely. Something was in his hand. "Catch!"

Everything appeared to slow down. Lane was overwhelmed by the other two, but not before sending the object soaring through the air. Stanley ignored the two men now on top of him, reaching out. The cold object fell into his hand.

A fresh magazine for the pistol.

Hurriedly, he ejected the magazine. The two zombies began their feast on his upper leg. His sweaty hands fumbled as he tried to shake them off, feeling unbearable pain. The zombies didn't budge, tearing off layers of skin. His heart was beating too fast now. The pressure was mounting. The magazine refused to enter the gun easily. Sobbing, Stanley finally slammed the magazine in. But the slide remained locked back.

"What's wrong?!" screamed Stanley, writhing wildly. "The thing is still locked!"

"**PULL IT YOU** –_**argh**_!"

He yanked the slide back before releasing. It snapped into position. Raising the gun, he pressed it against the man's chin and fired upward. He flew backwards, knocking into his partner. The final man glanced at his fallen comrade for a split second. Stanley raised the gun and looked through the sights. Unable to keep stability in his aim, he closed one eye, glaring down the sights. Swallowing, his finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet penetrated his eye, knocking him onto his back.

Eliminating his personal threat, he turned to his brother. His only brother... who wasn't moving anymore... not screaming anymore. The zombie couple on top appeared to have won.

"**No!**"

Blood boiling, Stanley roared as he emptied the magazine into them. His ears rang along with the continuous blasts. Both fell with relative ease, their final cries announcing their demise – but Stanley didn't stop shooting. Not until the slide locked back once again. Even then, he continued pulling the trigger.

Only when it finally occurred to him that the gun was empty, everything went silent. His arm fell from weariness. He felt cold, shivering as blood seeped from his numerous wounds. His vision blurred as Stanley dropped his head back onto the ground. He breathed heavily, his heart still pumping harshly. Dazed, he turned his head, surveying his injuries. A small chunk of his shoulder blade was torn off. His legs were covered in red, and his jeans ripped. His thighs were barely recognisable now.

"_Urgh_," he thought, his eye twitching. He was surrounded by a good six plus corpses. "_Shit_..."

A small ball of orange gradually rose behind the hills of Damuca County, flooding the remnants of the dark sky with light. Nobody in sight. Relieved, he had no desire but to close his eyes. It was over. He was too exhausted. His eyelids slowly lowered... his breathing slowing...

But a cough suddenly came from his side. Stanley looked around wildly, tense. Lane's body twitched, blood shooting upward with every cough. Disturbing gurgling noise came from his brother.

"Lane," mumbled Stanley, crawling towards his brother. He ignored the pain. With every inch he came closer, he felt regret. They were brothers. They were meant to be close. Why had they fought? "Lane..."

Lane turned his head. His condition was worse. The skin below his mouth was fragmented. Blood trickled out onto the rocky ground. Part of his chest was open, and the area around his ankle was gone, chewed nearly to the bone. He moaned as his gaze wandered around the room.

"St—Stan..."

Stanley almost smiled with relief, but retained a serious expression.

"I – I don't get you. You were ready to k—kill me five minutes ago. W—why'd you help me j—just now?"

Lane choked on more blood before coughing it out. "I – I was hoping you – you'd kill them – faster." He chuckled sadly.

Stanley shook his head, giving up on getting a proper answer. His brother's health was of more concern.

"I—I've got to go – get – help for u – us both.

Lane snorted, facing away from Stanley. "N—neither of us are going anywhere th – thanks to that mag – nificent stunt of yours."

Stanley bit back a retort as Lane sighed.

"How did this happen?" Lane began to sniff. He brought a shaking hand to his eye, wiping away a tear. "Everything was planned just _fine_."

Stanley shifted into a more comfortable position, but blood continued to ooze. It didn't matter anymore. His brother was dying right in front of his eyes. Despite everything, Stanley still loved him.

Their scene was interrupted by a small crackle from behind. Injured but alert, Stanley turned around. He held the empty pistol in front, shaking. It seemed to come from the infected soldier. A distorted voice came over the crackling.

"All tea ... Command. _Operation Level_ ... effect ... repeat ... now in effect. Any teams left ... city must signal on ... suitable structure ... evacuation ... until 0800 to ... minimum safe distance. Good luck, over and out."

_Operation Level_. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. Outside, the quiet buzzing of helicopters in the distance could be heard. Anxious, Stanley crawled towards the entrance, panting as Lane mumbled incoherently.

"_He can wait_," thought Stanley. All he needed to do was signal to the military that he wasn't one of them. They had said something about an evacuation after all. But the feeling in his body seemed distant. That horrible feeling... He'd experienced it just one other time.

* * *

_"Are you drunk!?"_

_Stanley shook his head innocently, his eyes wandering to his father lying on a table with numerous doctors working to keep him alive. "Where's Pam?"_

_"Are you fucking serious? She's probably at the police station, shaken as hell!"

* * *

_The memory eradicated whatever mental strength he had left. Upset, he strained himself, crawling outside into the open, but he was too weak now. Even the buzzing of the helicopters sounded faint, despite the fact they were nearly overhead. Glancing back, a blood trail led from Lane's immobile body to his position. Wheezing, his arms were unable to support his weight any longer, and his face fell into the dirt. He spluttered, rolling onto his back. In the distance, the silhouette of two people shambling towards him came in and out of focus. Above, a collection of helicopters flew over without a sound, heading towards the city. Several buildings spewed smoke from the artillery fire. Everything was fuzzy, and all he could hear was a soft howl of a breeze.

"I had feelings for you once too," a soft voice echoed in his head. Stanley felt a tug at his heart.

Isabel. Wherever she was, he hoped she was safe. He tried to picture her one last time, but his eyelids slowly draped over his eyes. Her figure materialised in his mind, if only for a second.

But her beautiful smile faded as he gasped one last breath, blacking out.

* * *

**A/N **- Okay, sorry that took so long, but I needed to pass my exams this year or else I wouldn't get into Uni. Now that they're over, I can concentrate on finishing this story! Thanks for reading! And I've started a new poll in my profile, feel free to participate. And feel free to review! Thank you.

- Prisoner617


	21. Seeking Stanley

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_**Three Weeks Ago**_

"_I know why you're angry with me!" yelled Stanley, kicking a chair. "And it's not just because you think it's my fault this whole family fell apart."_

_Isabel spied through the window of Lane's home. It was Tuesday, one of three days she'd stay the night at her fiancé's place._

"_Oh yeah? Why don't you tell me then asshole?"_

"_You never got the chance to prove yourself to them. They never paid you the same attention they did to me, and now you'll never get it. You __**hate **__that they vanished thinking of you in second place." He smirked, rubbing it in._

_Lane shook his head, sneering. In denial maybe. "You're so wrong. You don't have a clue do you?"_

"_Don't I? Is this why you were quick to ask Isabel out after I introduced you to her? You wanted to take her away from me and keep her for yourself. Guess you won in that department."_

_Lane roared, running up to Stanley and shoving him against the wall. Stanley kept a straight face while Isabel put her hand to her mouth to stop herself from shouting._

"_Don't you __**dare **__start accusing me about taking something away after what you've done to my family."_

"_Stop lying to yourself Lane. They were my family too."_

_Lane brought his arm to Stanley's neck, choking him. "Stay away from Isabel. Stay away from me. Do – you – understand?"_

"_Or what?"_

_Lane released him. "You don't wanna go down this road with me Stan." He pointed to the door. "Now get the hell out."_

_Stanley adjusted his clothes, glaring. Lane didn't back down, waiting impatiently. The front door opening, Isabel was forced to round the corner. Stanley approached his car, slamming the roof multiple times, yelling. Resting his head for a few seconds, he wrenched the door open and slid inside._

"_I hate this goddamn place!" Lane screamed inside._

_Maybe it was better to just stay home tonight._

_

* * *

**6:43 a.m. – Condemned Mines  
Damuca County**_

"I swear this is the last thing I'm ever doing for the military."

Isabel turned to Ethan, watching him fidget with his sidearm. She smiled weakly at his remark. He noticed, a grin developing on his own face. "What? You said it yourself. I'm not cut out to be a soldier."

"No I didn't."

"You implied it."

"Well, you were being a jerk."

Ethan laughed, bowing his head down shortly after. "Yeah – I know." He returned the pistol to its holster, an awkward silence following. Isabel sighed, swirling her neck to expel the stiffness. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Stanley hadn't arrived yet. Negative thoughts plagued her mind, dispelling nearly all optimism left inside, but despite the direness, she clung onto the little she still had.

"This is taking too long," said Ethan, standing up. "He should've been here by now."

"He'll be here, just ... hold on for a few more minutes."

He checked his watch, moaning. Isabel checked hers too. Twenty-four hours had passed since her world shattered, and Lane played a big role in it. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She shot her boyfriend an hour or so ago to protect Stanley, an old flame. Her heart was in total turmoil. Was Lane really willing to kill his brother? Anything was possible now. He was a stranger to her now.

"D'you hear that?"

Isabel snapped out of it. "Hear what?"

They stayed silent, Isabel searching for a sound with her ears. It came from outside, distant and faint. Ethan readied his MP5 and squirmed underneath the blockade to the tunnel. Isabel followed, her measly pistol wrapped in her sweaty hand. Several clouds had drifted past the sun, banishing most of the sunlight.

Ethan looked up, ignoring the drops of rain pattering on his face. "What the..."

Isabel followed his gaze. A formation of helicopters was returning from the city. She turned to a worried Ethan.

"What's wrong? Isn't that good?"

He frowned, scratching his head in confusion. "They're pulling out... but why? It doesn't make sense. They wouldn't pull out like this..."

He raised an eyebrow, a terrified expression suddenly growing on his face.

Isabel's heart began to beat faster. "What? Tell me!"

"Come on," Ethan grabbed Isabel's wrist. "We need to get the hell out of here now."

"Huh? But Stanley –"

"He's not superman Isabel, okay? He's out there _without a gun_, surrounded by god knows what, and chasing after his lunatic of a brother. I've got to be honest here – I don't think he'll make it. Lane's a different story."

Isabel tore her arm out of Ethan's grasp, her breathing steadily becoming erratic. "Don't. Don't say that."

Ethan's let go, taking a deep breath. Isabel dropped her gaze to her feet. Drops of rain began to fall, pattering on her face. It was more likely than not. Stanley was probably gone, and she didn't have higher hopes on seeing Lane anytime soon either. She felt dizzy, forcing her to support herself on the rock wall.

"Come." Ethan held out his hand. "We need to go."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "No. No I've got to find them."

Ethan glared, his eyebrows narrowing. His voice completely gruff, "You're not serious."

Recovering from her brief faintness, she spotted the car sitting idly to her left. Sucking her breath in, she marched towards it.

"Whoa whoa whoa," said Ethan, holding his arms out as though he was moving in for a hug. "I can't let you go."

She tried to press past, but Ethan stood his ground.

"Back off!" she wailed.

"Just stop for a second and think! It's hell out there. You have an _entire county _to search. The car's almost out of gas. What makes you think you'll find him!?"

For the first time since the incident started, ferocity emanated from her face. "My fiancé and his brother are out there somewhere, and I'm not leaving them while I get away with some – some _asshole_ that only cares about himself!"

Ethan stared, his mouth hanging open.

"You'll **never **understand what it's like to stay faithful to those you care about. Take some goddamn responsibility."

She climbed inside the car, escaping the pour of rain. Glancing up, Ethan stood where he was, looking guilty. Her hand made to turn the key, but stopped short as Ethan jogged towards the car. He got inside, laying his MP5 on his lap. She glared at him.

"I can't let you go out there by yourself." He retrieved the map from his back pocket. "Let's go."

Without a word, Isabel started the car and reversed. Stanley had always been there for her ever since she met him.

She was not going to abandon him now.

* * *

_**7:00 a.m.**_

"Alright we're getting close. Back to fucking square one. We don't need to go back up that stupid hill again, so stop just over there."

Isabel pulled over, once again ignoring Ethan's complaints. It was pouring rain now, surrounding the car with an unfavourable mist hampering visibility.

"So – I'd say they couldn't have gone very far, and I doubt Stanley would chase Lane back towards the city, which means..." he ripped open the glove box, rummaging for a pen. "They _gotta _be around this area." He drew a rather small circle.

"Are you sure?"

Ethan took another look, nodding his head. "Yeah, pretty sure. I say we start around this cluster of roads, and work backward from there."

"Oka – "

**SMACK!**

"Holy shit!" Isabel cried, her heart giving a sudden spike. Out of the fog, two zombies had collided with the window, eager to get to their prey.

"Get us outta here!"

Isabel slammed the accelerator, the car screeching before leaving the fiends behind in a cloud of smoke.

"Christ that was close," said Ethan, checking behind.

Isabel kept driving, her heart rate returning to normal. In the distance, she caught a glimpse of some sort of sign, its neon lights flashing repeatedly. The closer she got, the more discernable the area the sign was advertising was; a small motel, sitting idly in the countryside.

"What do you think of that? Good place to hide out?" asked Isabel, slowing down.

Ethan shrugged. "Might as well start there then," came his reply as he stared out the window. Several bodies lay motionless in the parking lot nearby some sort of Winnebago caravan.

"Maybe they came through here? Look at the bodies."

Ethan pondered this, still studying his surroundings. "Pull up next to the reception over there." He pointed. "And I mean next to it, like, next to the fucking door."

Isabel understood. It would prevent any outsiders from getting inside, and would allow a quick getaway if they needed it. She obeyed his order, leaving only a thin gap between her own door and the reception's. Parking, she switched off the engine. The pattering of rain and the distant chirps of birds were all they could hear.

"We don't have many bullets," he said, checking the magazine of his MP5. "So only shoot when necessary. Got it?"

Isabel nodded, tugging at the reception door before noticing a blood trail leading inside.

"It's blocked," she said, her eyes still fixated on the blood. It was relatively fresh.

"Leave it to me," he said, taking a seat in the car. Planting his feet against the door, he kicked against it. Whatever was behind the door budged a little, allowing it to open a fraction.

"Okay. You think you can get through that?"

Isabel studied the door before attempting to squeeze through the gap. Despite flattening against the wall, she struggled to get through. The door scratched at her body before she inched inside. Upon seeing her surroundings, she drew her weapon. The place was in turmoil. Plants were overturned, their soil mixing with the trail of blood continuing towards the elevator. The computer was in pieces on the floor, a red light blinking on the telephone beside it. But beside what appeared to be the restroom were four bodies.

Isabel swallowed, keeping her distance from the corpses. The stench emanating from them was foul. She identified one as a soldier, wearing the same uniform as Ethan. The other three looked to be teenagers. She suspected them to be the ones that rode the caravan outside.

A road trip gone bad.

Still not used to seeing bodies, she shifted her lingering eyes to a baseball bat and a bloody machete lying ominously beside them.

A sudden knock made her yelp in fright.

"Are you gonna let me in or not?"

Recuperating from the shock, she returned to the door. Discovering that a flipped table was blocking the door, she dragged it out of the way, allowing Ethan entry.

"Whoa," he said, taking in the sights. The smell hit him as it did Isabel, but he resisted it. Upon seeing the soldier, he approached the body and inspected it. "Damn it, his radio's missing."

"Looks like whoever came through here went up," claimed Isabel, following the blood trail to the elevator. Ethan kept his gun trained on the bodies as he followed her. Studying the elevator for a few seconds, he pressed the call button. "Get ready."

Holding her breath, Isabel raised her pistol. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't know what she would do. What if they were outnumbered? Or too slow? Or couldn't take them down? The doors opened with a ring. Her sweaty hands shook. Sliding sideways they revealed...

More blood.

Isabel exhaled, feeling silly about her worries as she lowered her weapon. She led Ethan inside, letting him check out the blood while she inspected the buttons.

"They went to floor three." Ethan turned to see blood smeared on the 'three' button.

He shrugged. "Let's check it out."

They watched the doors slide shut. She got her pistol out again, less anxious this time. Panic was only going to make things worse.

It took a few seconds to reach the third floor. The doors opened with a ring, alerting anyone on the floor that someone had arrived. Yet the corridor was empty and silent, apart from the typical blood Isabel still was not used to seeing. Handprints adorned the walls with the blood trail leading towards a doorway at the end of the hall. Room 304.

Ethan and Isabel crept alongside each other, wary of the other closed doors. They stood on both sides of the door to 304. Ethan laid his hand on the handle and tried to turn it.

Locked. Obviously.

He rested an ear against the door for a few seconds.

"Shit. I think I hear snarling."

Isabel gulped. "We're still going in right?"

Ethan backed away from the door, switching his MP5 to semi-automatic. "On my mark."

Isabel stood behind him. "One."

She got her gun ready. "Two."

Taking a deep breath, she held it out in front. "Three."

He kicked the door, smashing it wide open. A lone figure stood in the dark room, spinning towards the commotion.

"Freeze!"

The thing roared. Ethan's trigger finger twitched. It sprinted for the pair. Before she could fire, she felt Ethan throw her behind him, firing two bullets. Both bullets connected, one entering the upper torso with the other penetrating the eye. The zombie fell on its knees before arching back. Ethan breathed calmly, watching Isabel fire another round at its head, just in case.

The immediate vicinity clear, Isabel relaxed, expelling the tension in her body.

"Who is it?" asked Ethan. "Is it him?"

"I – I can't tell."

Ethan approached some curtains, tearing them aside. The blue carpet was now mostly scarlet, with blood spatter on the walls and furniture. Isabel looked down at their victim, gasping in recognition.

Elisa was lying in front of her. There was no mistaking her paramedic uniform and her dirty blonde hair. Isabel felt queasy just looking at her. She stood up, looking sadly at Ethan.

"Oh my god," he whispered, realising who it was. The woman he was instrumental in leaving behind hours ago. The consequence was lying dead on the floor in front of him.

But before he could get a closer look, he heard a brief mumble nearby.

"Did you hear that?"

Isabel nodded, training her gun on the bathroom door. She had finally suppressed the trembles in her aim. Ethan approached the door, his hand gripped tight on the handle.

"One ... two ... three!"

He threw the door open, raising his sub machine gun at a badly disfigured man sitting in the bathroom. His finger refrained from squeezing the trigger. Isabel peeked inside for a second before immediately retreating.

Claude sat miserably against the bathroom wall, surrounded by blood and an empty pistol. Bite marks plagued his body. He looked like he just barely escaped Elisa's wrath as soon as she turned. His breathing was faint. He opened his eyes a little.

"Oh god ... n – not you."

Ethan stared, at a loss for what to say or do.

Another consequence.

Isabel remembered their rivalry back when they escaped the subway the previous night. Regaining her composure, she re-entered the room. Claude adjusted his gaze towards her.

"Isa – H – help – help me."

Isabel looked on sympathetically. Noting the empty gun lying beside Claude's mauled legs, she figured 'help' meant 'put him out of his misery'.

"I am _so _sorry." Ignoring the seeping wounds on his hand, she laid hers on top. Their fingers interlocked with his breaths disturbingly gargled. He was trying to say something, but nothing else could escape his clogged throat. She looked up at Ethan, putting away his MP5 and retrieving his pistol. For the first time, she saw gloom in his eyes. Understanding what was to be done, she retreated behind him

She turned her back, just as she had done on the hill road where they abandoned him.

"Sorry," she heard Ethan murmur.

A lone tear slid down her face as he pulled the trigger. She jumped, swivelling around to see. Claude's head had snapped back, a clean shot through the forehead. The horrifying look on his face was too much. Nausea welled up inside, her fingers grasping the strands of her hair. Dizziness settling in, she stumbled out of the room, back into the hallway. The corridor was hazy, the nearest window a blur. She approached it, gagging.

"_I can't do this," _she thought, feeling faint. Her hands clasped the window sill tightly, turning white. _"I can't take this anymore." _

Everything felt distant. The nightmarish experience of the day was overwhelming. Brief flashes of memories whooshed past her eyes; Nadia, Lane, Phil, Elisa, Claude, and Stanley...

She fell against the wall, hearing Nadia's screams mixed with Stanley's yells. The motel corridor morphed into the hospital one where Stanley was hauling her out of the operating theatre, with Nadia relentlessly pursuing.

Everything became slow. A shadow grew to her left. Ethan stood over her, sporting a shocked look. She was on her back on the trail of blood, staring at the ceiling. Her breathing grew heavy, sweat combining with tears. She couldn't stop shaking.

His hands reached behind her shoulders, lifting her from the blood. His arms slid under hers, supporting her. Confident she was on both feet, he brought her into an embrace. Taking it all in, she remained still for a few seconds before breaking down on his shoulder. He looked uncomfortable, unsure of what to do.

"It's uh, it's gonna be alright. Just um, just try to breathe."

He held her for half a minute as she let it out, feeling awkward. She felt relief as part of the weight on her shoulders was lifted. It took some time, but she eventually put aside all her emotions and pulled away. Ethan felt his own relief when she did so.

"Uh, Claude had this on him." He waved a small radio on his hands, presumably the soldier's downstairs. "I was right before, it's total chaos. Command's afraid this thing's getting too big to handle. From what I've heard, something's going down at eight o'clock. _That's _why they're pulling out!" He sighed. "You don't have to do this, okay? Look at you." He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her an empathetic look. "Take the car, head for the mines and get out of here okay? I promise I'll find Stanley before eight."

She eyed him disbelievingly. "Me? _You _should get out of here. Why d'you care all of a sudden?

"Because you were right. Back in the mines, about taking responsibility." He seemed troubled, glancing back at the room. "I never want to do that ever again." He swallowed. "I – I left those two behind, and ended up taking their lives."

She looked right into his eyes, seeing a man filled with regret. He was telling the truth. Ethan seemed to think that finding Stanley would redeem him. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her pistol, smiling weakly. "It's alright. I'm coming with."

He surveyed her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'm sure."

Returning a weak smile, he checked his watch. "We don't have much time. Let's get out of here."

"Gladly."

They ran for the elevator, Ethan swiftly pressing the button for the first floor. Isabel felt uncomfortable, reminiscing about her elevator ride back at Stanley's loft. She kept her eyes fixed on the hatch above for the duration of the ride. It seemed like a year ago that he assisted her up into the shaft, only to get dragged down himself by one of them.

"C'mon!"

Isabel returned to reality. Ethan was already at the exit, climbing into the car. Isabel hurriedly followed, clambering inside. Ethan placed the radio on the dashboard.

"If we can't find them, we better hope my guys do."

Isabel nodded, starting the car. The clock flashed _7:27 a.m._ Just over half an hour left.

"Let's head over –"

"H—Hello?"

Ethan nearly jumped at the incoming transmission. The transmitter seemed to have gotten their hands on a faulty radio, with his voice being garbled. Nonetheless, it sounded familiar, but it wasn't Stanley.

"Identify yourself," came the expected response from command.

"Is that Lane?" asked Isabel, snatching the radio off Ethan's hands. It definitely sounded like him.

"I'm ... east ... oil ... bar ... quick ..."

"Bar? Do you remember passing one on the way here?" asked Ethan, hastily ripping out the map.

"No? Do you?"

"No." He scratched his head, ignoring command's demands for identity. So Lane was alive, yet he was giving bad Intel. No surprise there. He ran his finger along the crumpled map. "What the fuck, this is the only road east of the oil field before hills again."

"Well," said Isabel thinking back, "we passed a water tower, couple of trees, a farm and some sort of mechanic shop."

Ethan took the radio back from Isabel. "Can you repeat your location, over?"

"Barn ... one surv... go ..."

Ethan and Isabel traded looks of apprehension. He had to mean one survivor. With no mention of Stanley, it was enough to put Isabel on edge. She watched the radio anxiously, as though she could see close captions rising from the speaker.

"Are you infected?"

No response.

"Army units and CDC are en route to your location. Hang in there son. Over and out."

"We better get going." She started the car.

"Wait! Something's not right here," muttered Ethan, looking troubled.

Isabel looked at him impatiently. "What d'you mean?"

"He's infected. Why the hell would he radio the military for help, knowing they'd send CDC in? I mean, I hardly know the guy, but even I know that he wouldn't do that."

"Look, we need to go now! If Stanley..." she trailed off. Honestly, she wasn't fussed about what Lane would or wouldn't do right now. She needed to find Stanley. Needed to know if he was okay.

"Then we better get there before those units arrive. If they find out they're infected, they'll shoot on sight."

Nodding, Isabel slammed the accelerator, speeding towards the obscure farm in the distance.


	22. End of the Road

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_**Day One  
3:15 p.m.**_

"_RoE?"_

_The captain gave him a stern look. "We're authorized to engage any civilians failing to co-operate."_

_The chopper slowed, hovering near the Weller Bridge. Orders were clear, yet Ethan felt uncomfortable following them. But the captain had informed them that this was much bigger than some mass hysteria by some political nuts._

_He wasn't holding a beanbag launcher after all._

"_Lock and load."_

_Ethan checked his M4A1 Carbine, ensuring it was ready for action. His squad mates followed suit. It was hell down below. The streets were flooded with people, their roars audible even with the rotors of the helicopter buzzing in his ears._

_The LZ was in sight; a typical suburban park, except for the two teenage girls being torn apart by a mob of five. The captain was right. No way was this an ordinary riot._

"_Weapons free. Take them down." _

_Although he didn't like it, orders were orders. Rising from his seat, Ethan aimed down his sights, switching to semi-auto. He fired six shots at two targets, hoping to incapacitate them. _

_But they didn't go down. Registering the impact of the bullets, they looked up stupidly, as though they'd never seen a helicopter before. Determined to eliminate his set of targets, he aimed for the head and pumped a few more bullets into them. They dropped immediately._

"_LZ clear," the captain shouted._

"_Green light, move out!"_

_Ropes were dropped. Ethan moved to secure his hands on the rope before sliding onto the field, followed by the rest of his team. He barely had time to recover when shouts came from all directions._

"_Nobody move!"_

_At least fifteen were sprinting towards them. Ethan secretly wished they'd co-operate. He didn't want to feel like an executioner._

"_Freeze! I said __**freeze**__!"_

_Ethan glanced at the PFC, his Carbine shaking in his hand. They refused to listen._

"_Open fire!"_

_The Captain fired first, the PFC fiercely doing the same. Ethan reluctantly aimed for non-lethal shots. But the gunfire wasn't repelling them._

"_At our five o'clock! Counting eight, no nine tangos!"_

_Ethan glanced back to see a line of them also dashing for the squad._

"_They dropped the six of us here on our own against thousands of these things? What the fu—"_

"_Shut the hell up Private and fall back! Moooove!" _

_

* * *

**Day Two  
7:36 a.m. – Barnhouse  
Damuca County**_

Ethan put the memory behind him. If he'd known things would've gotten this messy, he wouldn't have showed up when he got the call.

"We've got 24 minutes until eight o'clock. If we're lucky, we'll make it through the mines and escape this mess. So hit it."

Isabel nodded before skidding off the road. The barnhouse where Stanley supposedly was came into view through the mist. The rain refused to let up, testing the car's stability. Ethan held onto the handle above the door, keeping a lookout for any other military units. If they didn't intercept Stanley before them, they were likely going to kill him.

As they drew nearer, Ethan spotted a twitching body just outside the barn, though he couldn't identify if it was Stanley. "Stop here."

Isabel eased the car beside the barnhouse. They both hopped out, mud splashing upwards onto their clothing. Ethan drew his sub-machine gun, leading Isabel towards the man on the ground. The clothes were recognizable, but apart from that, it would've been difficult to identify him. He was bleeding profusely, with injuries all over his body.

"Oh my god."

Isabel gasped, running to his side. She dropped to her knees, shifting hair away from his face. Ethan checked out the interior of the barn. Nobody alive was inside, but numerous corpses lay strewn on the ground, lying on top of nearly seventeen liters of blood.

"Holy… shit…" muttered Ethan, shocked. _Stanley did all this?_

"Lane…" came a moan from behind. "You've guh – gotta – find…"

Ethan spun around, kneeling beside Isabel. Stanley swallowed. "He – he – injected – Morton. Started – this… Gotta – catch…"

Uttering those last words, he fainted. Isabel clamped her hand over her mouth, assuming the worst.

Keeping his cool, Ethan cushioned his head and lightly tapped on his face. "Stanley? We need you to stay awake, okay?" He glanced around, spotting the farmhouse mere metres away.

"Stay with him, and keep an eye out for Lane. I'm gonna look for supplies."

Isabel nodded anxiously, assuring Stanley that she was here now as she stroked his face. Keeping his weapon ready, he jogged through the mud, reaching the porch of the farmhouse. The exterior light was still on, illuminating a few feet through the open front door. To the left was an open garage, with a pristine looking muscle car parked inside. Feeling uncomfortable, he slowed his approach, surveying his surroundings.

Another blood trail began on the porch, leading straight inside.

The buzzing of several helicopters overhead reminded him of the limited time they had. He scrapped his cautious approach, opting for a swifter infiltration. He maneuvered through the first floor, briefly checking each room. Pots and pans were scattered across the kitchen, and chairs overturned in the dining room. The initial assessment was that the home was abandoned, but there was still another floor. Drops of blood led towards the staircase, but not as dense as the trail leading to the bathroom. Deciding quickly, he followed the thicker trail to the bathroom. It stunk to high hell, with mould manifesting in the tiled walls, and mud mixing with the blood. Above the vintage sink was the medicine cabinet, already ransacked. Several rolls of bandages lay strewn on the floor along with open bottles of pills.

Ethan looked over his shoulder. He thought he heard footsteps, but nothing was there. Tense, he gathered the rolls of bandages before moving to the cabinet. One bottle of antiseptic lay on its side beside some aspirin and insulin.

As he made to grab it, a gunshot rang outside. He froze, only turning his head to look out the grilled window.

Another shot.

Snatching the antiseptic, Ethan took off. He didn't notice that more drops of blood had materialized by the front door as he dashed towards the barn. What was happening? He hadn't seen any infected when they arrived. Did it have anything to do with those footsteps? Did Stanley transform after all? Did she turn the gun on herself? Two shots were fired after all. The possibilities were endless. Anxious, he slid around the corner, gun raised as two more shots were fired.

Isabel was on one knee, having just eliminated a zombie stumbling towards her. The man groaned before crumpling beside two other fresh corpses.

"You okay!?" shouted Ethan through the storm. Isabel glanced back, ready to fire, but dropped her aim the moment Ethan's hands shot up.

"I think so," she said, shaken.

"Jaguar One, gimme a sitrep, over."

"Shots have been fired at the barnhouse. We're still en route to the location, ETA ninety seconds."

Ethan glanced at his radio. The party was nearby, heading straight for them.

"That's a negative, Clarke wants you out now. You'll be cutting it close otherwise."

"Copy."

"We need to go!" yelled Ethan, grabbing Stanley's shoulders. "We'll patch him up in the mines. Get his legs."

Isabel obeyed, scooping up his feet. Stanley slurred, hanging like a hammock as he was carried towards the car. Reaching their vehicle, Ethan opened the door before throwing Stanley in the backseat. Isabel laid his feet inside and slammed the door.

Static crackled on the radio before another voice came through. A deep, authoritative voice.

"All units, this is Secretary of Defense William Clarke. Be advised, I've executed Fire Mission Level. B-2 Spirits are in the air as I speak. Any teams left within the vicinity of New Barkham are now on their own. The package will be delivered in approximately eighteen minutes. If you are not clear of the detonation, your families will be informed of your honorable service to combat this threat. Good luck. Clarke out."

A series of headlights were coming closer every second. Ethan got in the passenger seat, turning back so he could work on stabilizing Stanley. But as Isabel got inside, another flash of light came from his right, in the direction of the farmhouse. A purring noise grew louder.

"What the…?"

A muscle car came barreling out of the fog, narrowly missing their car. With the vehicle in such close proximity, Ethan had no trouble identifying the driver.

Lane.

"Son of a bitch."

Recovering from its burst of speed, Lane took it to the main road. He must have spotted them for he was in a great hurry to get the hell out of there.

Isabel looked wildly at him. "Was that Lane?"

Ethan nodded frantically. "Step on it!"

Looking determined, Isabel pressed hard on the accelerator. Their car shot forward, chasing after Lane. Despite the cold air inside, Ethan felt hot. Behind him Stanley continued to stir, drifting in and out of consciousness. Ethan gulped, glancing back at Stanley. Confident Lane was still in view, Ethan sacrificed his seatbelt and shifted his seat backward. Within arm's length of Stanley, he tended to his wounds.

"Shouldn't we be trying to get out of Damuca County? It's almost eight!"

Ethan tore the lid off the antiseptic, sprinkling it over the open wounds. "He must've heard about the fire mission. Trust me, we can follow him right the hell out of here." After drenching the lesions in Stanley's ruined skin tissue, he began wrapping the bandages untidily around his arms and legs.

"That'll havta do for now," he murmured, patting Stanley's arm before switching focus back to Lane. Of course Lane had heard the recent transmission by Clarke. He'd transmitted Stanley's location over a radio after all hadn't he? No wonder he was in a rush.

Pondering this, he was startled to hear a familiar R&B tune playing in the car. Isabel's eyebrows rose, a small vibration noticeable in her pocket. Ethan stared at it. He had an idea of who was calling, but what did he want? Ethan held his hand out. Keeping her eyes on the road, she blindly patted her jeans to retrieve her phone. He snatched it and answered.

"_Put her on the phone."_

The moment Lane spoke, Ethan had a feeling that he couldn't be talked down. Turning to Isabel, Ethan offered the phone. Her head turned back and forth between the phone and the road. A stranger was on the other end of that call. One she preferred to distance herself from. She didn't care about him anymore. Not after what he'd done. With that thought completed, another one also came clear.

Her feelings for the man in the backseat had resurfaced stronger than ever.

She shook her head at Ethan, whispering, "No."

Ethan brought the phone back to his ear. "No, you'll be talking to me."

Lane had apparently heard Isabel's rejection, and the bitterness was amplified in his voice. _"I've got nothing to say to you."_

"Just give up Lane. You have any idea what you've done? Do you honestly think you can get away after all this?"

Lane didn't respond, yet refused to hang up. It was as though he wanted some sense talked into him. Or he was hoping Isabel would change her mind and talk with him.

"Isabel's hurt, Lane. The past twenty-four hours, you've done nothing but crush this poor woman."

Isabel glanced at Ethan for a while. Though she knew it was for negotiation purposes, she didn't think Ethan understood just how much she _was _crushed.

The radio crackled. "_Not as much as she's just crushed me."_

Ethan sighed, banging his head on the window. The guy was stubborn as hell. He decided to play a little with his emotions. Trap him. "She still loves you Lane. Just put an –"

"_If she still loves me, then she'd be the one talking with me, not some douchebag like you."_

Ethan bit his lip, his temper rising. "You're right. You're right; she doesn't care anymore. She _hates _you. What the hell were you thinking, throwing away your life like that? For what? For a couple thousand bucks?"

Nothing came through for a few seconds. Just heavy breathing.

"Huh? Well?"

"_Seven zeroes actually. Corporal, you're going to learn one day that everyone has a price and a breaking point. It's done. It's over. I'll see you and Stanley in hell. Goodbye." _

"What's don—"

The call ended.

Ethan snapped the phone shut, looking miffed. "You know, I really wouldn't mind putting a bullet in his fucking head."

"I'm sure you're at the back of a _very _long queue," groaned Stanley. His eyes fluttered open as he shuffled uncomfortably in the back seat.

Isabel turned, sighing with relief. "Thank go—"

"Watch out!" yelled Ethan, reaching for the steering wheel.

He spun it left. Three zombies had stumbled onto the road. The car veered around them, nearly sliding off the wet road. Stanley clutched the seat for dear life. The sudden swerve gave Lane the extra distance he needed to disappear into the mist.

"I'm so sorry!" cried Isabel, working on catching back up to Lane. "You all okay?"

Ethan simply nodded, breathing heavily as he laid back in his seat.

"Just great," grunted Stanley sarcastically.

The wipers worked furiously, sweeping off enough water to preserve limited visibility through the windshield. To Isabel's left was the familiar sign they'd seen the previous night, labeling the forthcoming road as _Crescent Dam_.

"Cavalier 4-1, what's your status, over?" Clarke's voice surfaced over the radio waves once again.

"Sir, I've got a lock on the target, over."

"Jaguar One?"

"Just crossed the dam sir."

The said dam came into view. The roadblock was gone as Command had promised. No more chainlink fences. No guard to send them away. Even if Lane got away, they'd be away from the blast radius. A big weight on Ethan's shoulder was lifted.

Lane's taillights blinked through the fog. Several zombies were ahead, some knocked aside by Lane's driving. It was likely these zombies would clear the minimum safe distance, and the threat wouldn't be contained at all.

To Ethan's right, he could see the 600 foot drop to the basin below. Through the rain, an ominous buzzing noise came from the distance. He squinted, trying to identify what appeared to be a helicopter. The pilot had some serious skill if he could maneuver it so smoothly during this intense weather.

"There's a helicopter circling the dam."

It hovered still, as though it was watching the pursuit. Lane had made it to the centre of the dam while their car was still a few feet from being on it. But Ethan couldn't take his eyes off of it. It took a moment, but he finally realized what he was looking at.

An AH-64 apache.

"Cavalier 4-1, you're cleared to fire your payload, over."

"Copy that."

Ethan figured what was coming up, albeit too late. The rockets were already in the air, speeding towards the dam, and Lane.

"Stop the fucking car! Back u –"

He reached for the steering wheel once again, but the rockets hit. The resulting explosion shook the earth. Lane's vehicle disappeared in the fireball while the shockwave knocked the car into a roll, shattering the windows. Everyone screamed, bracing themselves. The car finally stopped rolling, leaving only the back end safely on the remnants of the dam. Ethan's door flung open, sucking him out. His hands grasped for the frame of the window, just managing to grab it. The basin below grew wild, catching the megaliters of water storming through the giant breach now at the centre of the dam. Glancing back up, Isabel came tumbling towards him and out of the car. She shrieked. Her arms flailed about, barely managing to grab and hug Ethan's waist.

The glass shards of the window cutting into his hands together with the pouring rain and Isabel's weight challenged Ethan's grip. It was impossible to climb up with another body grappling onto him. Isabel hyperventilated. Her hands slowly slid down to his legs. She couldn't get a firm hold.

Swallowing, he stared at Stanley, unconscious again. His heart sank. Even if he were awake, he was in no shape to save them. His gaze moved to the dam. Pockets of fires steadily grew with smoke continuing to rise. Howls could be heard back where they came. Lane's car was nowhere to be seen. Had he been obliterated?

He lost focus. His left hand slipped off the frame. A frightening jolt shot through his body. Isabel screamed as her hands slipped further down to his ankles. The wind picked up. The rain fell harder. He fixed his eyes on Isabel, watching her futilely trying to climb higher.

"Just hold on," he called anxiously. His words were hollow. Empty. This could be it.

She sobbed, shaking her head. "I – I can't."

"C'mon, you can do this! Climb!"

The car lurched, giving a groan. Isabel's head shot up. They were dragging the car down. Eventually they'd all fall into the basin, and most likely drown. Ethan fought his fingers' desire to slip off. He was breathing heavily now. His heart was gonna burst at any moment. The water below relentlessly gushed through the gap in the dam. Nobody could swim through that. The rough waves would keep you submerged.

"Oh my God."

Both of them looked up. Stanley appeared, one eye open. His jaw hung.

"Isabel!?"

"Stanley!" she called back desperately.

He leaned forward, causing the car to tilt further. A louder groan rang out. The vehicle was dangerously close to falling now.

Ethan scrunched up his face, frantically trying to stop his fingers unwrapping. "This thing's gonna fall unless we get back inside and balance it out!"

He looked down, feeling helpless; unable to do anything to save either of them. Isabel bowed her head, as though she understood. After all it was etched clearly on his face. She began to whisper quickly. Her prayers were barely audible over the rain, but Ethan heard every word.

She looked up one final time, panic fading away. Her eyes sparkled from tears. Ethan's heart was thumping uncontrollably now. He knew what was going to happen. Knew it was necessary for the survival of both he and Stanley. If he didn't climb inside the car soon and balance it, the whole thing would slide off. But he couldn't climb with Isabel clinging onto him like that.

Yet he still wasn't going to accept that was the only solution.

"Don't do it. Isabel, don't you _fuckin' _dare let go of me."

She ignored him, locking her eyes with Stanley's as her hands slid down to Ethan's boots. The drops of rain seemed to slow. Everything went quiet. Even the gushing water of the dam fell silent.

With Stanley giving her his complete attention, her mouth slowly moved. No sound came out, but Ethan read her lips perfectly.

"_I love you_."

Stanley threw his hand out, as though he could reach her. "**NO!**"

But she let go.

Ethan felt lighter physically, as did the car, but a heavy weight lingered. He watched her fall with grace, her arms outstretched like an angel. He didn't blink once as she fell a long way into the raging water.

She never surfaced.

* * *

A/N - Can't believe I'm almost done with this story. My first one! Thanks so much for reading guys, honestly I wouldn't have made it this far without you or your reviews. =)


	23. Extraction Point

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_Command this is Cavalier 4-1; we may have dished out some friendly fire, standby._

…

_Sir, I've spotted some small arms fire down by the dam. Repeat, I see small arms fire. There could be potential survivors down there! But god damn, there's like a whole army of those things going towards 'em._

…

_This is Warhammer 7-2; I'm in the sector. Command, requesting permission for a search and rescue._

…

_I understand the risks sir. Believe me when I say I can get them and be up in the air by the time those incendiary bombs drop._

…

_I've got the man on the radio. He's one of us, a Corporal Ethan Hiller, and he's with a civilian._

…

_It's your call sir._

…

_Thank you sir. Out._

* * *

_**Some years ago…**_

"_What are you doing all the way out here?"_

_Startled, he turned around. He saw the silhouette of a woman standing in front of the dying sun. But he recognized the voice. Honestly, it was a comfort to hear._

"_How'd you find me?"_

_Isabel stepped forward casually, hands in her pockets. "I saw you leaving. Thought I'd follow to check up on you." She gestured at their surroundings. "Didn't know you'd take me all the way out to the dam though."_

"_Oh." He hung his head in embarrassment._

_She came closer. Stanley thought he could see a bit of fear in her face. Was she afraid of him leaving her behind? She couldn't be. She was starting to show interest in Lane after all. _

"_You going to run away like Pam did?"_

_He sighed, resting his head on the handrail. "'That was the plan, yeah."_

"_Why?"_

_He swallowed, piecing together an explanation in his mind. "Because there's nothing left for me back in New Barkham."_

"_What about your brother? What about me? We're here for you Stanley."_

_His nose wrinkled with his upper lip raised. "He's not."_

"_Well," she said, softly laying a hand on his shoulder. "I always will be."_

_Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and nodded. Then, without warning, guilt came crashing down. Frankly, he thought Lane was right about him ruining the family. He choked, tears erupting from his eyes. "It's all – it's all my –"_

_He felt Isabel catch him and ease him to the ground. Kneeling, she wrapped her arm around him. "Hey, it's not your fault okay? It's not your fault."_

* * *

_**7:52 a.m. – Crescent Dam  
Damuca County**_

Sometimes we lose more than we win.

But Stanley had lost everything and won nothing. It was all over. Lane was gone. Isabel was dead. Even _he _felt dead. But the crackling from the radio in front reminded him he was still here.

"_It's not your fault."_

It's what he kept trying to tell himself, but it wasn't working. If he'd just let Lane go and gone with them to the mines before, none of this would've happened. Why...? What was he hoping to achieve when he got Lane anyway? What a stupid decision. If he'd known the consequences…

A figure reached for the radio and spoke. His voice was distorted. Even his face was a hazy mess. All Stanley could tell was that it was a man.

Shutting his eyes for a few moments, he felt a tug. Aching all over, he didn't fight it. He was hauled out of the car viciously, smacking onto the road. A pistol fell onto his lap. The same one he passed onto Isabel before his kiss to her back at the oil field. He looked up at his faceless savior.

"_Shoot 'em god damn it!"_

The voice was vaguely familiar. One hand was grasped onto Stanley's collar while the other wielded another pistol. Obeying his request, he held the gun in his hand as he was dragged along the road. His lungs felt beaten, testing his ability to breathe.

Ahead, an exodus of people shambled towards him. He expected them to be charging as he'd seen back in the city, but all they could do was stumble.

"_Shoot!"_

Stanley aimed and fired at the closest. The woman caught a bullet to the upper torso, knocking her back. The round took forever to eject. Time was going by _very _slowly.

He fired another shot at a different target, but completely missed. He pulled the trigger again, only nothing happened. The gun wasn't even fully loaded. He waved it at his partner like a kid would wave a toy they wanted to their parent.

The man took it and threw it aside. Stanley disappointedly watched it tumble over the edge of the dam. A brief flash of Isabel's face crossed his mind. A look of peace as she fell down… down…

"_No! No, hang in there Stan!"_

His voice pulled him back to reality. The heat subsided as they travelled further away from the fiery dam. Stanley craned his head around for a moment, spotting an open field. Another crackle came from the man's waist, with incoherent chatter coming through.

He wasn't paying attention anymore. Nothing to live for, Stanley allowed himself to roll his eyes back. Like going to sleep… Maybe he'd see Isabel at the end of the tunnel…

* * *

Ethan was out of options.

Everything spiraled out of control the second the rockets obliterated the dam. They'd rushed back to save Stanley from the military, and now he was banking on his fellow soldiers rescuing the both of them. It seemed pointless going back in the first place now. He had no idea what they were going to do with Stanley once they discovered he was infected, but if they didn't rescue them, they were dead for sure. At least Stanley had a chance if Ethan could just convince them he wasn't going to change.

But he himself didn't even believe that.

The injuries started to ache, forcing Ethan to stop his retreat. Catching his breath, he seized his radio.

"This is Hiller. Where the hell are you guys? I'm outta bullets, and there's about a hundred of 'em, so help would be **very fucking appreciated, over!**"

"_Nearly there Corporal. Ninety seconds."_

"And they'll be here in thirty!" Ethan spat. "Hurry the hell up!"

He jammed the radio back in his pocket. "_Fuckin' useless, blowing us up, destroying our only way out, and now they're pissing around in the air, I can't believe it! If it wasn't for those idiots, Isabel would still be alive…_

_Oh god, Isabel…_

Shame and guilt mixed with fury, forcing his head to bow. Stanley's eyes were closed.

He cursed loudly, slapping his face around. "C'mon Stanley, I need you to stay awake for me alright? Please!"

Stanley's eyes gradually opened, and Ethan sighed with relief.

"C'mon, 'ere we go." He draped one of his arms around his shoulder. He staggered further, trying to maintain his distance away from the approaching horde. The explosion at the dam seemed loud enough to attract the whole county's infected population.

Ethan assisted Stanley towards the treeline. The mud made it hard to move through smoothly. He didn't want to be too deep into the woods, fearing they wouldn't return to the clearing in time for pickup. With only a few minutes left before the fire mission, they needed to be in the air ASAP.

"_Looks like you've led the parade to the LZ. Phenomenal work Corporal."_

Ethan's jaw twitched. "We're in the south treeline. Go ahead and blow those fuckers out in the clearing to kingdom come."

A snort came through. "_I'm flying a Black Hawk here Corporal, not a gunship."_

The chopping of the rotors were barely audible over the chorus of rain and moans. Ethan slowly clenched his fists, his eyebrows pulling together with rage.

"Are you **fucking **kidding me? Can't you use the blades to slice those things up? Improvise!"

"_What am I, a windmill? That's impossible." _

Ethan was almost in tears from frustration. "Well, isn't there a clearing on the road some place?"

"_Too many abandoned cars. Hold on a second."_

Ethan grabbed his hair, watching several members of the horde shambling through the forest. They didn't look so threatening, but being unarmed together with their sheer numbers, they were the most terrifying things Ethan could imagine.

"_I think I can land on the observation platform just across the road. You think you can make it?"_

Ethan helped Stanley up and trekked through the mud. Rain continued to batter down on them as he found the road. At his 2 o'clock, he spotted the elevated structure twenty meters away through the heavy rain and fog. The wind picked up as he saw the Black Hawk helicopter swoop inbound. But both his sides had about twenty zombies each, about eight meters away.

A different voice came over the radio. _"Three minutes to weapons release."_

He took a deep breath. His pulse began to race. Do or die time.

"On my way."

Grasping Stanley tightly, he charged across the road. He felt like he'd walked into a trash compactor. Both sides had a wall of zombies slowly closing in.

_Four meters._

His heart thumped as his grip on Stanley started to slip. No time to fix it.

_Nine meters._

He cleared the road. Now he was on a crude pathway. The staircase leading up to the observation platform was at the end.

_Sixteen meters._

Stanley's feet began to drag. They were within arms length now. Ethan watched as the helicopter touched down. He was so close, but the lifeless moans were closer.

_Twenty meters._

He planted a foot on the staircase, but a legless zombie clawed at his ankle. His leg buckled, knocking him forward. Stanley slipped out of his grasp, causing him to fall beside him. He smacked onto the concrete stairs, pain shooting through his forehead. He rolled over. Three of them leaned close, including a woman toward Stanley. But Ethan kept his eyes fixated on the nearest man. Saliva dripped from his rotten teeth, a shriek escaping. Ethan released one last breath of defeat before closing his eyes.

Blood squirted onto his face, and the disturbing sound of flesh being torn rang out.

His eyes shot open instantly. The man had a clean hole in his forehead. Stanley was also saved. Ethan began to hyperventilate as Stanley's head fell backward.

"Hurry up, we've gotta go!"

His head swung around, catching a glimpse of a soldier opening fire. Another had his arms under Stanley's, carelessly towing him up the stairs. There were too many of them for the soldier to keep them suppressed any longer. A hand appeared in front of him. Despite the searing pain all over his body, he clutched it and allowed himself to be pulled up.

"Go!"

"_Sixty seconds to weapons release."_

Grasping his forehead, he staggered towards the helicopter. The rotors drowned out the intimidating moans behind him. He watched Stanley get dragged onboard before climbing inside. The other soldier fired while retreating, keeping them at bay.

"In, in, in!" urged the soldier, providing cover fire.

The one outside climbed aboard. "We're all here; get us in the air!"

"_You got it." _

Ethan heard the rotor blades speed up as the loud chopping soon overwhelmed the rifle's muzzle. The helicopter began its ascension into the air.

"_Welcome aboard gentlemen. __Just in time too."_

Ethan ignored the pilot, scrambling painfully onto a seat. Stanley was laid down with one of the soldiers redressing his wounds. The mob of zombies came stumbling towards the LZ, protesting as they watched their prey rise.

Ethan kept his eyes fixed on Stanley. He had no intention of watching the county being flattened with the incendiary bombs Clarke had promised to deliver. His breathing back to normal as the Black Hawk flew over the remnants of the dam. On the other side of the gap, a flipped mustang was engulfed in flames. Ethan caught a glimpse of it. The corner of his lip stretched back before leaning his head back against the wall of the helicopter.

Only one loose end remained.

Stanley.

Ethan held onto that thought as they left the county behind.


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_**!!! EMERGENCY NOTICE !!!**_

_ALL RESIDENTS WITHIN FIFTY MILES OF NEW BARKHAM AND THE SURROUNDING COUNTY ARE TO PARTICIPATE IN A MANDATORY HEALTH EXAMINATION. PLEASE GO DIRECTLY TO YOUR NEAREST CDC/FEMA TESTING STATION IMMEDIATELY. _

_NATIONAL GUARD PATROLS ARE IN EFFECT. FAILURE TO CONDUCT A HEALTH EXAMINATION __WILL__ RESULT IN IMMEDIATE DETENTION IN A QUARANTINED FACILITY._

_THANK YOU FOR YOUR CO-OPERATION  
NATIONAL HEALTH SERVICES_

_

* * *

**Wednesday, September 16**__**th**__** 2009**_

_**5:03 a.m. – Deletante Military Medical Center  
Northern Virginia**_

He'd felt depressed ever since he had woken. It was his first chance to reflect. A towny loft apartment, boring job at an architecture firm, stable friendships... it all died with Sean Morton that morning.

Stanley stared at the ceiling, counting the number of tiny holes in the tiles above. He felt claustrophobic, lying in the bed, being studied behind bullet-proof glass. Their initial assessment was that he wouldn't succumb to the disease, but his heart would be permanently damaged. He'd lost a lot of blood that day, expelling most of the virus that dwelled inside. The subsequent blood transfusion ensured his bodily functions wouldn't shut down, and revive him as a mindless zombie.

"You're a lucky man," the doctor had said. Stanley would've broken down in dark laughter if he'd been able to then. "You'll live, don't you worry."

But he didn't really care anymore. It wasn't like he had anything to live for now. He had a strong suspicion he was feeling what Pam had felt before she left. Empty. A bleak future because of the horrible memories. Robbed of everything; except she hadn't been, whereas he actually had. If only Pam had realised he still loved her and he'd always look after her, maybe she wouldn't have felt so vulnerable.

But who was there to look after him? Everyone who remotely cared about him was gone. Gone because of him.

_Why does it always end this way? Why am **I** always responsible?_

One thing lingered in his mind for as long as he'd woken. His brother had single-handedly brought a city to its knees, and ended up dying as a result. But he'd also lost perhaps the only woman he would ever fall for.

Trapped in his bed, all he could do was replay multiple scenarios in his head, and determine where he could've made better decisions. What if he hadn't crashed into those strange foreigners on his way out of the city? What if he never visited the Yoshida building at all? What if he hadn't left Elisa in the mud with Claude?

What if he fucking stayed with Isabel instead of being a hero and stopping Lane?

It slowly extended to his teenage years, with his drunken outing leading to Pam's rape and his father's death, or his subsequent surrender to Isabel's pleas for him to not run away. Would Isabel still be alive? Lane may not have broken emotionally and injected Morton if Pam and dad were still around, or if he'd left town.

So many choices.

Everything seemed so trivial compared to this. He had no idea what the goals were of the people observing him. Lane had likely been successful in transferring the virus over to a buyer who was probably going to use it to kill millions. Not to mention that he himself had murdered countless strangers over a short period of time. He honestly wasn't surprised that they'd labelled him a loony and were keeping him under strict surveillance for the time being.

Ethan had visited a couple of hours ago. It hadn't taken long to treat his wounds and debrief him. He'd frequently apologized over and over about Isabel. Stanley merely nodded in acknowledgement, but he knew Ethan wasn't at fault. He'd apparently gotten in touch with his sister and niece back in San Francisco. Stanley couldn't say that he felt happy for him though. His despair distorted everything that was meant to be happy. Ethan also claimed that several straggling zombies had crossed the dam before its destruction, but the army was optimistic about containment. Secretary Clarke had yet to disclose what actually happened. But neither of them seemed to care. All Ethan could think about was going to see his sister and cherish them in case he was ever put on another assignment like this again.

Otherwise, Stanley was isolated in the boxy room, under constant watch by balding doctors in white coats. It was hardly ideal.

He sat upright, taking in a deep breath before closing his eyes. The entire dam sequence played in his head, focusing only on Isabel and her final moments. Her last words to him were gutting, and he wasn't sure if she had meant it. Nevertheless, he was going to take it, allowing it to elate his heart. He couldn't forget her last smile as she let go. She had looked like a graceful angel, falling down into the raging water. His hand dangled out the window helplessly; his shocked gaze shifted to Ethan, who looked just as troubled as he did with her sudden move. Eventually he reopened his eyes, tears welling up. Sniffing, he brought the sheets up to his eyes and began to sob quietly, rocking back and forth in his bed.

"I'm so sorry."

... So sorry ...

* * *

Oh. My. God. I've finished. I actually finished a story. Thank you _**so**_ much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. Special thanks to all my reviewers and to DarkPhoenix112358 and INoScopedJFK for their contributions/edits to my chapters. I couldn't have done this without you guys! It's been a heck of a ride. =]


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